Day 20 something (yes, I'm losing count) - Köln

After Copenhagen, we caught the train (which ends up being put on a ferry for a portion of the journey - coooool!) and then stayed in Köln (Cologne) in Germany for a few nights. I really wanted to show you the amazing Gothic cathedral, but the damn thing wouldn't even fit in my lens.

I kid you not. That thing is bloody huge!

I have discovered that when you are continuously on the road, you start thinking some really odd things. For example, there I am, gazing up at the oldest Gothic cathedral in the world, and all I can think is "Gee that statue looks like Ringo Starr!"

Or: "Hmmm, I wonder how many people set themselves alight on the prayer candles?"

Or even, upon exiting the gloomy grandeur, "Geepers creepers - how do you get yourself onto that BierBike?!"

Like I said, strange thoughts.

Day 20 - Copenhagen (in black and white)

As you can all probably tell, I'm a wee bit behind with the travel blogging. It's because I'm in denial - Copenhagen was so beautiful that I didn't want to leave!

We did all the usual things - saw the palaces and checked out if Mary and Fred were home (they weren't but Margrethe was, as evidenced by the swallow tail flag atop her palace), gazed at the Little Mermaid (yes, she is little, and kinda bored by the expression on her face) and went to the gorgeously light filled art gallery.

We also hired bikes and cruised around the town, in what would have to be one of the best days we've had away. It was just so lovely to peddle away at a gentle pace, stopping when we felt like it, and feeling so safe and secure in the bike lanes.

The one thing that really has stayed in my mind, however, is the Museum of Danish Resistance. Tell you what, if you want to find yourself blubbering away hopelessly, pop in there and read the final letters to home written by Danish Resistance fighters upon finding out that they were to be executed for actions against the Germans during WWII. They were all so stoic, and accepting about the consequences of their actions. I was bawling like a baby at the courage exhibited by those passionate young men.

The entire museum is wonderfully done, and well worth a look. As is all of Copenhagen itself. I will definitely be back.

Day 17 - Copenhagen

Dear Copenhagen,

I think I love you! I love your beautiful layout, peppered with open public squares and fantastically beautiful buildings. I love your delightful gardens, and your cobblestone streets. I love how clean and proud you are, with your friendly citizens and brightly painted homes.

I also love your bike lanes. OH MY SAINTED AUNT, do I love those bike lanes. They are so safe and easy to use and for the love of all that is environmentally good Melbourne, when the heck are you going to get with the program? That Swanston Street "Copenhagen-style" bike lane is a frigging joke once you've been on the real thing.

(Note from Ed: are you writing a love letter to Copenhagen, or a hate missive to Melbourne's pathetic transport planningm policies?)

Oops, sorry! Back to Copenhagen. Yes, those bike lanes rock. They make your city so easy to use, and add such a friendly air. Not to mention clean air! Copenhagen, I LOOOOOOOOOVE you! I'm seriously thinking about moving there. After all, Microsoft have their second largest corporate offices there - the Galumph would fit right in! And there's only four international schools which Grumbles could attend. Not that I Googled or anything *whistles a tune innocently*

And I especially loved the smørrebrøds, especially the smoked salmon and dill numbers. Nagdammit, they were gooooooood!

Day 14 - Bettmeralp

On our last day in Switzerland (sob, sob!) we hopped into Bjorn's car and drove off to visit Bettmeralp, or 'The Better Alp!' as all the tourist brochures call it. Better than what, I wondered. They're all majestic wonders of nature, not to mention freaking huge!

However, there is no denying that Bettmeralp is incredible. UNESCO agrees, and has named it one of their World Heritage Sites. Situated almost 2000 feet above sea level, the town is car free, and can only be accessed by cable car. The air is so pure here, and you really do feel like you are standing on top of the world as you gaze about the picture postcard beauty of the town, framed by the grand peaks of the surrounding alps.

Seriously - all we needed was Heidi to come tripping by with her goats, and the picture would have been complete. It's so beautiful there that it's ridiculous!

On a side note, I never really understood as a kid how Heidi's grandfather could push Clara's wheelchair down the mountain side. Surely, I thought, it would have just slowly rolled to a halt, rather than careening down the slope helter skelter before being totally destroyed at the bottom. Well, I can assure you I am labouring under no such misapprehensions now. I spent the whole day jitterly watching Grumbles to make sure she didn't go careening off the side. Damn those hills are steep!

Grumbles, however, was completely unfazed by the gradients. You take the child to the grandeur of a Swiss alp, and instead of being awed by the scenic panarama around them they prefer to laze about and pet the local cat. *shakes head* Kids these day, huh?

Day 12 - Lausanne

Lausanne - home to the most beautiful Gothic cathedral in Switzerland. Work began in 1175, and apparently remains unfinished to this day, although you cannot tell from the splendour and grandour of the church. At one stage of it's history, it was like the mecca of Switzerland, with more than 10 times the population of Lausanne swarming upon the town each year to pay their respects to God.

One of the more interesting facts about the cathedral is that it still employs a nightwatch man. In centuries gone by this was a common feature, with the main job of the watchman to keep an eye out for fires which could easily destroy your average medieval town built mainly of wood. As the years went by, and wood was replaced by stone, most nightwatch men were replaced by telecommunications and local fire authorities. Some forward thinking folks even went crazy and installed those new-fangled smoke detector thingies. Wild times!

But not in Lausanne. Every night their nightwatch man is required to climb up the 153 stairs to the top of the belfry, scan the surrounding countryside for telltale plumes of smoke, and if all is good he then has to yell out at the top of his voice "C'est le guet; il a sonné l'heure!" (this is the nightwatch - the hour has struck).

153 stairs. Even in the middle of winter. Every evening from 10pm until 2am. Poor bloody sod.

Lausanne is also home to what seems, at the time, like the world's most angled shopping strip. If climbing hills of 45 degrees to get your consumer fix is your thing, then Lausanne is the place for you! Except, of course, if you are the nightwatch man. I suspect he's rather over climbing up and down.

Day 10 - Gruyère

Gruyère is an incredible place. Surrounded by mountains that form natural boundaries, it has often been fought over as a strategic stronghold in Switzerland's past. Accompanying each tale from the misty past are legends that showcase the pluck and valour of the good citizens of La Gruyères.

But don't think it was just the men, with their scary array of weaponry, that came along and saved the day. Once, whilst being fought by the armies of the Bernese and the Fribourgers, the townsmen found themselves in a rather dicey situation indeed. Completely outnumbered, they were being forced into a retreat, complete with a nasty massacre at the end.

Thank heavens, then, for those clever townswomen. They quickly herded up the goats, dressed them in bells and strange hats, and sent them off towards the marauding invaders through the fog. Scared witless by the spectre of ghostly demons emerging from the mist who, incidentally, sounded like they were bleating from the very depths of hell, the enemy was thrown into panicked turmoil. One poor invader was forever captured for posterity screeching to his fellow sword bearers "Run for your life; run before the fire of war is rekindled, stoking our adversaries' courage and lighting the way to our defeat and death!"

So hooray for the ladies and the goats for saving the day. I would expect nothing less from a town which produced such exceptional cheeses (chèvre, bien sûr, included!).

Although the fondue is pretty good. And the raclette. And the meringues. Geez, Switzerland is seriously making me fat!

Day Nine - Désalpe @ Charmey

My father is a dairy farmer, and once a year he would gather up all the newly born calves and transport them to another part of our farm, so they could be weaned from their mothers. In my memory this was considered a big day, as the other part of our farm was a couple of kilometres down the local highway, so a truck would be bought in the transport all the calves. Exciting times!

The Swiss, however, have made the movement of cows an art form. Each year, at the end of summer, the cows are decorated with enormous bells and flowers, and are gaily walked down from the sunny mountain peaks where they have been happily munching the grass all summer to the lower pastures, where they will reside in winter. Dressed in traditional costume, farmers and their friends accompany the cows down the winding mountain roads, while the villages below get their finest to cook sausages and pour beer in anticipation of the festival they call désalpe. Traffic is blocked off for miles around, which on a curvy mountain road with no overtaking would normally be considered about as welcome as a fly in your fondue, but it is all taken in good cheer, with most people jumping out of their cars to take happy snaps, and cheer the cows and farmers as they languidly make their way down from the alpine peaks.

I may have done a bit of cheering and photo snapping myself!

And perhaps indulged in a sausage or two!

Day Seven - Romainmôtier

The village of Romainmôtier may be tiny (only 400 people live here) but it has one big feature: it is home to the oldest abbey in Switzerland. The abbey, originally built in 515, was replaced by the current church building in the early 11th century, with the Cluny monks, who built the church, remaining there until they were relieved of the building during the Reform.

The energy in the church was amazing. It was a honour to be able to visit and walk the same stones steps that countless monks trod upon on their way to prayers. How many pious men, I wondered, knelt down in this church with heads bowed low? How many eucharists were celebrated to the glory of God? How many fishers of men spent a spell resting weary feet in the same spot Grumbles decided to perch? How many faces were raised up and bathed in the brilliant light filtering through the stained glass windows?

In Australia our settlement history is so new, and feels rather gauche and raw compared to the centuries of ancient yore on display in seemingly every corner of this stunning land. Having grown up on a dairy farm in Victoria, I never imagined I would find myself delicately tracing the letters etched onto a Roman headstone that has stood proud and tall for centuries in a Swiss abbey.

It really is such a privilege to be here.

Day Six - Poires avec Monsieur Claude

One of the nicest things about staying on a farm in the middle of the jolie Swiss countryside is that if you don't feel like catching a train into the nearest village/regional centre/city you can instead loll around, soaking up the gentle sunshine and occasionally rousing yourself to help le fermier de la maison faire la moisson (help the farmer to bring in the harvest).

Everywhere you look are tractors cutting down the corn crop, orchards filled with trees laden with fruit, and pumpkin getting bigger by the day in la jardin potager (vegetable patch). Monsieur Claude, who owns the farm with his wife Martine, has taken great delight in getting Grumbles to help him with his daily chores. The two of them have already spent many happy hours feeding the chickens and picking the ripe fruit from the trees. Despite the fact that Grumbles speaks no French and Claude does not speak English, all you can hear is a constant stream of chatter from both of them, punctuated regularly by burst of giggles and guffaws.

The only downside is that I am beginning to run out of recipes which might use up the copious amounts of poires, pommes et noix (pears, apples and walnuts) that Claude keeps giving to us!

Still, who could resist him and his lovely fruit? Pas moi!

Day Five - Ependes

You know what - I'm pretty darn sure that I could live in Switzerland. The people are friendly, the country is criss-crossed with charming lanes, the next village is only a short stroll away and everything is SO DANG PRETTY!

Take the wee village of Ependes, for example. It has everything that a picture perfect Swiss village needs, except for a shop, but who needs a shop when every house has a vegetable patch, is surrounded by uber-fertile farmland, and has a charmante mobile food van which stops in town every Tuesday, Friday and Saturday with essential supplies, such as cheese, bread, vegetables and in my case the best chocolate eclair I have even stuffed into my ravenous maw.


We've only been here a few days, but it already feels like home.

Day Four - London to Geneva

There's an old adage that says that if you must travel, travel in style. There really is no better way to see the world than from the comfortable seat of a nice, fast train. So bright and early we set off to catch the Eurostar from London to Paris. Watch out good citizens of France, here we come!

The trip on the Eurostar went quite well - Grumbles began to complain of travel sickness again, but thankfully held it in this time. We made it to Paris a mere 15 minutes late, and then set off to make our connection to Geneva. We'd allowed ourselves a comfortable hour and a half to make our connection at another station - what could possibly go wrong?

Murphy and his damnable law decided to creep on in at this point and pay us a visit. Firstly we got stuck in a taxi queue, which sucked up a good 20 minutes. No probs, still an hour and 10 to go. Then the taxi ride itself, through the CRAZY Parisian traffic took another 30 minutes. I'm not sure which was the scariest bit: the 6 lane roundabout merge than almost saw our taxi origami-ed between two trucks bent on going in the opposite direction to us, or the accident caused by our driver when trying to park at the station. Still, we were all intact (physically - my nerves were beginning to ever so slightly fray) and had 40 minutes up our sleeve to find our tickets and then board the train.

What we hadn't counted on was the rabbit warren that was Gare de Lyon. We hauled our suitcases and Grumbles down corridors, up escalators and then down more escalators, following the little arrows that promised billets (tickets) around each corner. When we finally found the ticket concourse, it was diagonally opposite the door we had entered in, and we'd wasted 10 precious minutes running all over the place. Still, the queue for tickets looked relatively small - we had ourselves 30 minutes still - we would be fine. I would simply cross my legs and wait to find a toilet after we had collected our tickets.

I hadn't banked on how long it took for everybody to buy their tickets. We stood in that seemingly never moving queue, becoming more and more nervous as the minutes ticked on by and ever so slowly people would shuffle forward to stand at the ticket desk to haggle away. 20 minutes... 15 minutes... 10 minutes... finally with 7 minutes until departure I was able to lunge forward and bark at the poor woman "Parlez vous anglais?" "Yes" she sighed, and then I thrust our booking confirmation email at her, waited with tapping toes for her to print out our tickets, then snatched them of her hands and raced for the platform. Truly not one of my finest moments. I'm still cringing with shame at my lack of manners.

However, we made the train, and I as soon as it started I raced for the loo. Coming back to my seat I felt much more composed: we were on the train, and the world was good again. This feeling of peace lasted until a loudspeaker message broke the relative silence of the carriage, screeching a stream of urgent French that seemed to last forever. One of the few words I caught was the repeated mention of plastique explosif. After the announcement the whole carriage was full of uproar, with much muttering and gesticulating in French. We lent forward to the charming French man who was sharing our seats, and asked him what was going on.

"Ah!", he said, "It appears that somebody has left some boxes on the train wrapped in plastic, with no information accompanying them. The train stewards suspect it may be a bomb, so they are diverting us to another line so les police, les soldats et les pompiers can meet us."

Police! Soldiers! Firemen! Holy Schmoly! It's the works! When we arrived at the diverted-to station, we were all made to get off and take our luggage with us, crossing the train tracks and assembling in the town square. Soon the good police of France had figured out who the packages belonged to (some poor schmuck tourists who were obviously clueless about normal sorts of luggage, like um suitcases rather then broccoli boxes wrapped in plastic then covered in sticky tape) and we were once more on our way.

However our way was not as quick as we originally thought it would be: instead of a nice 3 hour trip we now had 6 hours ahead of us. Merde!

We started off industriously enough: colouring books, puzzle games, I spy. Heck, we even grinned for the camera:

But it wasn't long before total boredom set in...

... and then some of us succumbed to total exhaustion.

At 9 that evening we arrived in Geneva. Don't even think about popping the champagne and letting off the fireworks: we still had another hour long train ride to Yverdon-les-Bains.

Finally we made it, and after saying a very quick hello to our gracious hosts Bjorn and Leonie we crashed into bed, wondering what adventures tomorrow would bring. I really didn't mind - as long as there were no bloody trains involved!

Day Three - London

We made it! Tired, and totally jet lagged (bed at 7 o'clock anybody?!), but here, in fine old London Town. I've always wanted to visit the world of Robert Browning and E M Forster, of Samuel Pepys and Sherlock Holmes. Even, nagdammit, the world of Richard Curtis and here I am. Hoorah!

We started off the day having a very fine hotel breakfast (note to self: if you eat too much of the cereal, Jorthy, you won't have room for the chocolate croissants!) and then stepped out to see the world. We though that we'd meander slowly through Hyde Park to Trafalgar Square, turn on the spot at Piccadilly Circus and then find our way back to the hotel.

Unfortunately we picked the same day the London SkyRide was on, so we shared our route with an estimated 60,000 cyclists. D'oh! Still, if we craned our necks just so we could make out the main attractions in between the thousands of yellow clad cyclists.

One of the things that struck me the most was the statues dotted about the place. So many gallant acts, acknowledge forever in the finest bronze that His or Her Majesty at the time could afford. We saw the incredible homage to Nelson in Trafalgar Square, commemorating his victory over the French. We gazed awestruck at the Angel of Peace Descending on the Chariot of War in Wellington Arch, before smiling fondly at Wellington himself astride his noble steed Copenhagen.

We also saw some other, more interesting, statues. One in particular stuck in my mind. It was Erected To Commemorate The Glorious Heroes Of The Machine Gun Corps Who Fell In The Great War. I stood for a moment, letting the horror of what these men went through sink into my mind. I then lifted my eyes from the inscription to be faced with another kind of horror. The horror of the Most Unsuitable Statue Ever:

What the heck were these people thinking? A naked man holding a sword? How the hell does that commemorate the poor lads who perished in the worst possible way? I stood there, flabbergasted, before taking some pictures, and before long was befriended by a nice English chap.

"Take a look at this!" I blustered to him. "Those poor lads died in the war, and all they get for giving the ultimate sacrifice is a naked man statue. How does that work, I ask you?"

My new friend mused upon this for a moment, and then said "Well, at least they gave him a big sword!"

"Fat lot of good that would do him!" I replied. "Would you like to use a sword whilst naked?"

"Um, no, not really", he answered, before moving quickly away from the crazy Australian tourist. Still, they did encircle the machine guns in peace wreaths. If that doesn't get the message across that war is bad, then I don't know what will.

After that we meandered through the Green Park, which was lovely. Apparently it used to go by the name of Upper St James, but all that changed when King Charles II was busted by his wife giving a pretty young housemaid flowers from the meadow (and a bit more besides!). The Queen was so ticked off that Charles would be giving flowers to another woman that she ordered every single flower to be ripped from the ground, so he wouldn't be tempted to such foolish behaviour again. Hell hath no fury like a Queen scorned and an entire team of gardeners at her disposal!

After all that walking it was time to head back to the hotel. With views like this out of my window, I may never ever leave.

Day One - The Never Ending Flight

So, I'm sitting at home, taking nice deep breaths, trying not to watch the clock and freak out about how soon the flight is. I mean, people fly all the time, right, and nothing ever happens to them. The chance of dying in a plane crash is far less than the daily risk involved in getting in a car. So I'll be fine. Because I can't even drive a car, which makes me practically risk free! I'll be totally fine. Absoluuuuuutely hunky dory.

Then the phone rings. It's Quantas customer service. The flight has been delayed, they report, and thought that as we were travelling with a child that we might want to know.

Well, Quantas, that's all very decent of you, but that now gives me an extra hour to freak out in. AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!

Dear reader, I recovered. Even though we sat at the airport for another two extra hours, watching flight after flight take off before us, and trying to induce Grumbles to take a nap (completely unsuccessfully, bien sur). On a positive note, I ran into my cousin Denise, who was taking a holiday to Malaysia with her family. On a bum note, I was eating my dinner at 1 in the morning. It's a topsy turvy world.

Still, we landed in Hong Kong with no trouble at all. The key to not melting down during take off is to (a) have a small child to attend to, and thus divert all your freak out abilities into stopping them from freaking out and (b) cola flavoured Chuppa Chups. Since the original flight was delayed, it put our second one out of whack also, but the wait was only an hour, and then we were off once more.

We made it half way through the second flight before trouble struck. Sure, we were bored, and our vegan meals supremely unsatisfying (note to airline staff: Jorth cannot live on fruit alone!), and sleep just wasn't happening, but generally things were good. Then Grumbles announced that she didn't feel very well.

"Do you think you're going to be sick, honey?" I asked, wiping down her face with a washcloth.

"No, just a bit funny in my tummy!" she answered brightly.

"Well, thanks heavens for that, because throwing up on an aeroplane would really be...."

The rest of my sentence was lost in the sudden grab for a sick bag. I got it under her chin just in time, as she chucked and chucked and chucked. In between moving her hair back from her face and muttering encouragement, I gazed at the bag in dismay, certain it was going to burst or leak or just fall apart from all the liquid. Miraculously it remained intact, and I handed it to a poor steward as soon as I could.

And where, I hear you asking, was the mightly Galumph during all this drama? Hogging up the bloody toilet, that's where!

Exhausted, Grumbles fell limply asleep in my lap, as I glanced nervously at my watch and calculated that we still had 5 hours left of the flight. Thankfully, she broke the monotony by awakening twice more and chundering away. Who wants a quiet life, eh? However, I shall give credit where credit is due: she didn't moan, squeal, sook or carry on in any way whatsoever. Once she had done her business, she would just lie back and smile at us. The head steward came over and told her in a very campy clucky tone that she was just a marvel, and an absolutely credit to her parents, which cheered us all up immensely. The warm fuzzy feeling lasted until we touched down, where I breathed a huge sigh of relief: we had made it and Grumbles had finally stopped vomitting.

We all stood up to collect our carry on luggage, and exchange pleasantries with our fellow passengers whilst we waited to disembark. "My dear!", squarked one old English bird sitting behind us, "I had no idea the wee one had even been ill! What a blessing you have there!"

"Thank you!" I smiled back. "She's been great, hasn't she!"

Then Grumbles threw up all over our shoes.

Welcome to England!

To Do List

1 - Do a gazillion or so loads of washing so everything is clean and ready to be packed. CHECK.

2 - Learn useless French phrases: Ma mère est sous la table, bien sûr! (my mother is under the table, of course!) CHECK.

3 - Mildly freak out about getting on a plane. CHECK CHECKITY CHECK

4 - Feel resididual guilt about the carbon emissions from aforementioned plane, then figure since we haven't owned a car for 6 years, and walk and bike everywhere then we have a few carbon points up our sleeve that we'd surely be entitled to splurge? UM, SORTA CHECK

5 - Warn the good citizens of England, Wales, Germany, France, Switzerland and Denmark that la famille Jorth are coming? NO WAY, WHERE WOULD BE THE FUN IN THAT?!!

Keep an eye on the blog, fellow blogging comrades, as I'm planning on posting on the road. How excited am I? SO EXCITED THAT I MAY START BLOGGING IN NOTHING BUT CAPS, THAT'S HOW EXCITED!

Seersucker delight

The Jorth family are heading off overseas for two months (I know! Eeeeeeeee!) in a couple of weeks, and I've been one busy beaver, trying to organise and plan it all. I thought I had it all under control until the other day when I was riffling through Grumble's drawers, trying to find something summery for her to wear as we were having an unseasonably warm day.

Then it dawned on me - she has no summery clothes. None that fit, anyway. And whilst I was completely on top of her travel wardrobe, the poor little scamp was going to come home in the middle of an Australian summer with scarely a thing to cover herself with.

So three cheers for Ottobre Magazine for coming to our rescue. I knew just what to make: the ubercute summer dress pattern from the 3/2009 issue, and I also had to hand some of the most incredible seersucker I've ever laid eyes on (heh heh, one of the perks of working in a fabric store!)

Seriously, this seersucker is the best! If I could marry this seersucker, I would, because it truly is that wonderfully brilliant! It sewed like a dream, and shall be perfect for those crazy summer days we're expected to have this year. I don't know about you, but I'm not looking forward to those 46 C days again...

Speaking of again, I'll be making this dress up again and again. It took all of two hours, and was so easy peasy, yet looks so good. The hardest part was doing the rolled hems on the sleeves, yet even those were a breeze with this fabric. Everybody who has seen the dress has done the "oooh, ahhh!" thing (most gratifyingly, I must say!) and I've even got some orders put in from the other kinder mums. Nothing beats the kinder mum stamp of approval, I say!

Anyhoo, enough babbling: I'll let the results speak for themselves:

Project details

Pattern: Three Way Dress pattern from Ottobre 3/2009, size 110 cm

Fabric: Japanese seersucker from Tessuti Fabrics, 60 cm of main body fabric, and 45 cm of contrasting fabric

Notions: 130 cm grosgrain ribbon

Happiness is a scarf with pom poms

I mean, seriously, what's not to love? I think I need a pom pom scarf!

Project Details

Pattern: Both hat and scarf are from Phildar Pitchoun Automne-Hiver 2006-2007

Yarn: 6 balls of Cleckheaton Merino Bambino 4 ply in Cherry

Needles: 6mm for scarf, and 4.5mm for hat

Notes: The hat was knitted using double strands of the yarn.

Pattern review: Vogue 8468

Fabric: $10 special fabric from Tessuti Fabrics

Pattern Description: Vogue 8468 Loose-fitting, A-line, lined dress, mid-knee has self-lined yoke with back button and loop closure, back zipper and stitched hem.

Pattern Sizing: I made the size 8

Did it look like the drawing on the pattern envelope once you were done? Not really, because of course I had to do an alteration or two (cough, cough).

Were the instructions easy to follow: They were easy enough, but I didn't like the construction method used. The pattern instructions call for you to assemble the dress front and back and lining - complete with understitching - prior to adding the sleeve, but this, I feel, creates unnecessary bulk, as you are essentially sewing the sleeve onto a half-finished sleeve opening. If I made this again, I would assemble the dress sans facing, then assemble the lining and then sew the lining to the dress in the usual fashion.

Pattern alterations or any design changes you made: I shortened the dress by 13 cm as it felt too bulky in the fabric I used. I really should have used a lovely soft floaty fabric, which would have looked much better, but what can I say - I loved the fabric, especially the colour, and was determined to make this dress in it.

Once I tried it on I realised that this fabric wasn't quite right for this pattern. In fact, my husband said it looked like a very bad church choir vestment, and then helpfully suggested that I belt out numbers from Sister Act whenever I wore it. After that comment I took to it with the scissors!

I also didn't add the sleeve flares, and increased the sleeve length by 12 cm.

Would you sew this again? Nah. How many church choir dresses does a girl really need?

Conclusion: This dress is growing on me, but I made the mistake of trying to the make the fabric fit the pattern, because I looooooved the colour. As a result, without the belt it's frump city! I'm so sorry, fabric. I did you wrong. I really should have given you a pattern you deserved. Forgive me!

I also made it a wee bit too short. Without the leggings, it's undie city. Not exactly the look I was going for.

Still, with the belt cinching in the waist and the leggings and the cool fuschia colour, it's a pretty darn good rock chick dress. Not what I envisioned, but I'm oddly very happy with it.

And I must say that I'm still in love with the fabric. It's so comfy to wear, and the colour is just incredible. I feel quite glamorous walking around in such a beautiful slinky shade of fuschia!

Now if only I could do something about the dreadful hairdo I'm sporting in the photo. What was I thinking?!?!

Clever green design posters

Greenpeace Australia recently held a design competion, with the brief being 'Be a Part of the Action'. According to the website, they wanted the posters, above all, to raise awareness of environmental issues and inspire action.



I'd say the above finalists did a pretty darn good job of that! Click here to check out the other entries. Link via Make Wealth History.

Tree Planting

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, and... oh, heck. Who am I kidding? It dawned windy, chilly and miserable, and seemed determined to stay that way. It was a poor looking day for tree planting, and my cajoling wasn't swaying the Galumph at all.

"Trust me!", I beseeched, "You'll love it when you get there!"

"Trust me!", he answered, "I am quite content in my pyjamas, and not freezing my behind off in that", waving an arm towards the window, which gave an opportune rattle in support.

Still, I must have some tricks up my sleeve after all these years together (either that, or it was the continual wailing of "But what will my readers think if we don't turn up? I'll be lynched the green blogging brigade. Waaaaaaahhhhhhh!") because we were soon out in the wintry day, pedalling like mad to get to the tree planting. After being shown the ropes, we were sent off to a far corner of the reserve, and a-planting we did go.

And do you know what? It was brilliant fun. Sure, our butts were soon oddly sore from all the squatting, and after a while I couldn't feel my fingers, and Grumbles, in her valiant attempts to help, kept sloshing filthy tree planting water all over us, but it was great! We soon had rosy cheeks from the exertion, and met some fabulous people, and I even got my falafels at the end of it.

The only concern was the wind. It was blowing like mad, and I kept glancing up at the gum trees towering above us, suddenly remembering EVERY SINGLE STORY I've ever read or heard about people being suddenly killed by limbs dropping in strong winds, heads split open like over ripe watermelons (ok, so I've never quite heard of the head split thing, but when I suspect danger my imagination goes into overdrive). "Bright side, Jorthy, bright side!", I muttered to myself. "Let the equation go like this: we're doing a good deed, all three of us, which makes it good deed times three. That's a lot of good karma points. I'm sure I won't be walloped by a falling branch when I'm doing a good thing for the environment and the whole entire world in general. Huzzah! I'll be safe!"

And to top off a most excellent day these lovely guys fixed all our bikes FOR FREE! When they are not hanging out at tree planting days, they can be found at Human Powered Cycles. Get 'em to check out your bike, as they really know their stuff. Tell them the crazy girl with the Townie sent you. I'm sure they'll know who you mean.

The blue beauty finally getting some attention. Apparently I've been a very bad bike owner. Oops!

NTD

Ah, it's that time of the year again. Time to get my fingers dirty, squatting around in nature-based community reserves, filling hole after hole with natives shrubs, grasses, trees or bushes whilst nattering to fellow conservationists. And once I've done with my squatting (and admonished Grumbles for the fourteenth time that she's meant to be watering in the plants, not Mummy's bleeping foot!) it'll be time to head over to the free bbq to grab myself a falafel roll choc-filled with salad, and kick back and listen to the band.

That's right, folks - it's National Tree Day. Not only is it loads of fun, but the day is a great chance for regular Australians to actively participate in caring for our incredible environment. So, rather than loafing around on the couch this Sunday, head on over to your local tree planting site, and help make a difference in the fight against climate change and safeguarding our biodiversity.

For more info, see the official Planet Ark National Tree Day Site. Bring some friends (and gloves and rubber boots) and make a day of it!

Winners are grinners

Grumbles and I have been enjoying playing our new favourite game - Store Front Bingo! It's been a fabulous way to pass the time as we wait for our freshly dry-cleaned carpet to dry (why is it so wet if it's dry cleaned? Oh the mysteries of my life!), although I could do without the ear-piercing screams of BIIIIIIIIIINGOOOOOOOOOOO! every time she fills a card.

I could also do without the hassles of a rental inspection, which, of course, explains the cleaning of the carpet. Man am I sick of renting!

Never mind. It's a good excuse to give the house a jolly good clean, from top to bottom, polishing up all those nooks and crannies that I usually avert my eyes from. For who wants to dust and scrub when there is sewing to do? Or knitting, for that matter? Or even tweezering the hairs out of ones leg out of sheer boredom? Huh? Huh? Not that I'm owning up to the last one. Oh no, not at all...

Anyway, enough blathering. Let's announce the winners of the birthday giveaway!

Numbers one and four, which are Hoppo Bumpo and Lisette. Well done ladies! Send me an email with your address, and I'll post off the books pronto like.

Rightio - I'm off. I have many dirty windows that require the old vinegar and newspaper treatment. Bleugh.

Graffiti Dress

The amount of graffiti to be found in the inner city is incredible. Everywhere you look, there's another tag spray painted onto a wall. A shame, I tells ya, it's a crying shame!

Some individuals don't confine themselves to walls, though. These so-called graffiti artists will spray anything in sight, including fabric. And then make dresses out of them!

At the ripe old age of 32, you really would think she would know better. Graffiti dress indeed!

Project Details

Fabric: 1.2 metres of black and white printed 100% cotton from Tessuti Fabrics, painted pink with Jones Tones Glossy paint from Lincraft

Pattern: Vogue 8511, View B

Notions: 1 metre white rayon lining, one 22 inch dress zip and a hook and eye

Let me tell you, this was one fun project! I'd seen the fabric at Tessuti and really wanted to make a dress out of it, but had made a solemn vow to myself that I wasn't allowed to make or buy anything in black, because I really wear too much of it, and frankly, I need a bit more colour in my wardrobe. But I did love that fabric. What to do, what to do?

Brainwave! I'll paint some colour on myself! So I trotted down to Lincraft, got myself some pink fabric paint and then once home I diluted the paint with a bit of water and then Grumbles and I got to work. It was soooooo much fun! (You can read about our painting adventures here) I simply grabbed some old paint brushes I had lying around, and once I had spread the fabric on the table, we just painted bits here and bits there as we felt like it. Then, once we tired of that, we started 'splodging' the paint on. Grumbles looked up at me delightedly at one stage, and as she brandished her brush around she exclaimed "This isn't how we usually make dresses, is it, Mummy?!"

No siree, we don't. But gee it was fun!

After we finished painting the fabric and then let it dry, I threw it in the washing machine at 30 C, and it came out perfectly. The colour didn't run or fade at all. Phew! Because I diluted the paint, it lost the 'glossy' look it would have it normally, which was good - it was a more matt effect that I was after.

Once again I've used Vogue 8511, and ended up with a vastly different sort of dress. I made this one shorter, and left out the lower back hem opening. I love wearing this dress: once again, it's super comfy to wear, but I feel pretty darn glam in it! And it is so easy to wear - apart from the belt it doesn't need any other accessories. Not with that fabric, anyway! I just throw it on, find some heels, and away I go.

Oooh, newsflash: Just as I've been typing this, Lisa from Tessuti rang and said that they have sold out of the fabric, but do have some similar ones in store, plus lots of fabulous cottons that would be perfect for a painting project like this. That's one of the best things about making your own clothes - you can customise them no end, and end up with something wonderfully unique and totally 'you'.

So: I love this pattern, I love this fabric, I love my brilliant brainwavey idea and I love love love my new dress. Rock on!

32

Happy birthday to meeeeeeee!

It's that time of year again - my birthday. Hoorah! Tell you what, it's been a pretty good year. I'm pretty darn happy where I am, and feel that life is moving in the right direction. I'm blessed with a wonderful husband, a gorgeous daughter, fabulous friends and a rich, full life.

My only sadness is that we can't give Grumbles the much wanted brother or sister that we all long for, but you know what they say: you can't have it all, and I think my deal is pretty sweet as is. Grumbles and I have been chatting of late about looking on the bright side, so when I get that little ache in my heart, that's what I do: stop to remember how lucky I am. I'm very, very blessed, and it doesn't pay to forget that.

So folks, as per usual I'm sharing the love with a bit of Jorthy giveaway goodness. This year I've got two fabulous books to give away: Beads and Buttons by Erika Knight, and Crochet Handmade Style.

Both are filled with some very cool projects, and it's a bit of wrench to give them away, but I like to treat all you guys once a year as a way of saying thank you for reading my burbling posts! So here's the drill: leave a comment saying which you'd like (oh, and a birthday message would be nice, too!) and I'll do that random number generator thingamajig to find the lucky winners.

Good luck! And thanks for reading! I like having all you folks swing by.

UPDATE! I've decided to leave the competition open for a week, so hurry hurry hurry and get your entry in!

Is it a crime to deface fabric?

Why has Jorth carefully taped calico over her table? Is she planning on making a mess?


And why has she dragged that pattern out again?

Pleeeeease don't tell me that wet, pink stuff is paint. On fabric? Scandalous!

Oh, Jorth! Whatever are we going to do with you?

Although, I guess that answers the mess question.

Pieces of Sunday

My new favourite LBD

What? You can't expect me to be working at Tessuti and not be making up dresses in their gorgeous fabric, now can you?

Project Details

Pattern: Vogue 8511, view B

Fabric: 1.8 metres Japanese Cotton Print from Tessuti Fabrics (141 Flinders Lane, Melbourne), bodice lined with orange rayon lining

Notions: 22" zipper, hook and eye

This would have to easily be my pattern of the year. Hands down, no competition whatsoever. I loved making this dress, and love wearing it even more. It's so comfy, yet so chic! I feel very French whenever I wear it, which is just the most awesome feeling! But what's even more awesome is the amount of compliments I get whenever I wear it. This dress is a hit!

Even better than the dress is the fabric. The cotton (which is selling fast, fast, fast in our Melbourne store) was an absolute dream to work with. In fact, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun making a dress. To save it from becoming a bit too twee, I added my own special touch: I put in an open-ended jacket zipper, to give the dress a slight 'rock' edge, and it definitely makes an impact.

So, it's a big 10 out of 10 from me. The pattern was challenging enough to keep me from being bored, without becoming too much of a stress. The front skirt has some nifty side pleats, with a box pleat in the middle (fun!), and some darts in the back. I love doing darts! It really is a wonderfully versatile pattern - you can easily make a whole range of dresses, ranging from simple and classic to bold and crazy, depending upon fabric choices and skirt length. In fact, my next project will be making use of this pattern again, but let me assure you, the dresses could not be any more different! Watch this space!

FurryBum moments

We have a little name around here for those moments when you really should have just known better. It's called being a FurryBum. It's when one of us here at la maison de Jorth will do something that causes the rest of us to groan in mock dismay and point fingers disdainfully and say "You are SUCH a FurryBum!"

For example, as I type this I am simultaneously trying to eat wheat biscuits covered in coleslaw and grated cheese. The outcome of this juggling act could easily be, shall we say, less than desirable. There is a very great potential for me to end up with a heap of coleslaw over my freshly washed jeans, and to choke on the crumbs as I curse my stupidity, yet I continue despite this, because I am being a total and utter FurryBum.

Yesterday was quite the FurryBum day. Whilst washing the dishes I managed to place my favourite glass water jug on the dishrack in such a way that the moment I stepped out of the kitchen it unbalanced and went crashing into the sink, smashing into a rather melodious thousand little pieces. Of course it smashed into the wet sink, making it rather hazardous to clean the glass shards (is that a piece of glass or a drop of water? Oh the danger!). Of course it happened as I was on the other side of the bench, so I couldn't do a spectacular save. And naturally this FurryBum moment was compounded by the fact that only the night before I'd made a crack to the Galumph about when he breaks the jug... because I would never do such a thing. Ahem. You could call this FurryBum squared.

Meanwhile, at exact same time, the Galumph was having a FurryBum moment of his own. We'd sat down, at his nagging insistence, the night before and filled out the forms for a local school. "C'mon!", he'd exhorted. "We've got to get these done and sent in. In fact, I'll ride around before work tomorrow, and hand them in to the office in person!" So ride around he did, but unfortunately the office was closed because, DUR, it's school holidays. FurryBum!

Then, to cap off a most FurryBumilicious day, I sat down at the computer last night to review some pics of a scarf that I made recently for my friend K.

Doesn't that blue suit her perfectly? Geez I did a good job. Well done me!

Hang on a second... WTF? Why is one end of the scarf waaaaaay wider than the other? How did I not see this before now? How did I knit it without noticing that colossal mistake? And then wrap the darn thing up? And then give it to her, and demand she send me photos?

Oh my sainted aunt, I'm burning up with embarrassment! I swear before the Knitting Gods that I truly had no idea - I would have ripped and redone otherwise!

Oh, the shame! The shame! The ignominious FurryBum shame!

Try not to breathe in the dust

Two digital archeologiest were hunting around the cyberspace that is Blogger, looking for a very old artefact. They stepped gingerly, not wanting to disturb any input or datum as they made their search.

It was tough going - after all, the blog - Jorth - that they were looking for hadn't been updated in over a month, and as Bob said with a rueful grin to Alfonso, that was akin to forever in the digital age.

Suddenly a cry rent the air. "Alf! It's here! I've found it! She's still alive, and has actually been doing stuff, by the looks of it!"

"Careful, me boy!", warned Alf as he scurried over. "Sometimes with these blogs it's very unclear whether they just haven't updated due to the old 'Oops, life got in the way' excuse or if they have actually decided to cease blogging for all of eternity. How's the data files looking?"

"Pretty good!", said Bob excitedly. Using his TIAD device (Thought-Intention-Actually Doing device) he scanned the blog carefully, then absentmindedly whistled the theme song from Dr. Zhivago whilst waiting for the results. Upon reading them he gave a sigh of relief.

"According to the data files, she has been meaning to blog but - yep, you guess it, you old pro, you - life did indeed get in the way. And not only that, but she's been making stuff. Give me a minute, and we might even get an image out of this thing!"

Bob continued reading the results as they waiting for the .jpg to materialise, and reeled off his findings to Alf as he found them: "Yep, she's been knitting... scarves again by the looks of it... and sewing... it's either pjs or some very ugly day pants... that Grumbles turned 5 and they threw a big party... they tried to buy a house but were outbid... oooh, she's made a lovely frock using Vogue Pattern 8511... Hey Alf... Alfie?... ALFONSO!"

Alf looked up as he carefully dusted down the sides of the blog. He could tell from the gleam in Bob's eyes that this was a pretty piece of news. Unable to contain himself, Bob splurted out "She's made the dress using fabric she bought from Tessuti! Bought, may I add, using her staff discount!"

"Well shiver my timbers and make yourself some jelly!" exclained Alf as the news sunk in. "Working at Tessuti! Busy indeed! Well, Bob, me lad, you've done a fine job. Hopefully, with the work we've done here today, the young Jorth lass will be up and blogging again in no time."

As they headed back into cyberspace, Bob said, "Oh, did you see the pic? Quite a fetching scarf she's made!" With a good days work behind them, they disappeared into the internet, looking for other neglected blogs to rescue.

Bird dresses should be an essential staple of every girl's wardrobe

I made this bird dress for my dear friend earlier this summer. We both stood in the fabric store, um-ing and ah-ing over the fabric, but when we viewed the finished product all we could say was "Jolly good call!" because, if I do say so myself, it turned out freaking awesome!

I love that from a distance you think "Wow, that's a nice floral dress" but upon closer inspection it's paint-by-numbers birds! Birds! Who wouldn't want a dress with birds on it? Just as I thought - no hands raised. I rest my case.

On a more serious note, I love this pattern and am super pleased with how the dress turned out. I made it in size 8, and didn't need to tweak the pattern at all. Anyway, I can't really take all the credit - it's awfully hard to make any garment look bad when you have a model as gorgeous as this one, with a clever husband to take the photos. Thanks guys! Enjoy the dress!

Project Details

Pattern: Vogue 8184, view C

Fabric: Up town by Erin Michael for Moda Fabrics, Pattern # 26026, 2.3 metres

Notions: 14 inch zipper

Mysterious sewing

Hmmm... wonder what this could be?

(No prizes for anybody who guesses 'overlocker'!)

MixTape Issue 9 out now!

I love writing for MixTape. It gives me so much pleasure to be part of a project such as this that has found a spot in many a crafty heart. But there's one thing better than writing for the zine, and that's reading my very own copy when it arrives in the mail!

This issue is particularly good. There's an amazing article on selvedges by Jodie of vintagericrac - you will be amazed when you see what she does with them! There's also very cool instructions for dishcloths, the power of craftivism and a little article by yours truly on the joys of prerecycling.

So go on! Skedaddle! Get yourself a copy today! And don't forget to head on over to the MixTape blog - it's a week of wonderful giveaways. Woohoo!

Coughing and sneezing is now the official soundtrack to my life.

Boy oh boy, did I have some grand plans for this week. I was going to:

- make myself a brand new dress, using the fabric I bought from Tessuti. I was hoping to finish the dress by the end of the week, so I could wear it to the opening party, swanning around looking fabulous and chic etc etc

- cut out and sew three pairs of pj pants, as we are all in dire need of new sleepwear, and I finally found some lovely flannel at GJ's

- Knit another scarf, this time for my friend K, who is having her birthday today (happy birthday!) in some gorgeously soft Jo Sharp Silk Road Aran

- Keep the house spotless, cook gourmet meals, figure out the winning Tattslotto numbers and fathom the mystery mathematics behind black holes

All in all, it was going to be one heck of a week. Achievements galore! Sewing masterpieces! Creation of superbly textural knits! Scientific glory!

Then Grumbles got sick. So no kindergarten for her. I found myself housebound with a grumpy pre-schooler. There went the dress plans.

Then I got sick. "Pshwah", I thought to myself, "'tis nothing but a sore throat. Nothing I can't handle!" But still, there went the pyjama plans.

Then I got really sick. Besides the continual "Ah-ah-ah-CHOOOOO!" and "hack-hackity-hack" noises, the only sound was that of my plans being torn up into pieces, set fire to, then the ashes blasted off into space.

Thank goodness I did manage to get some knitting done. Sorta. Still a full ball to go. However, in a week like this that's classed as real progress!

Edited to add: GJ's is 443 Lygon St, East Brunswick. You can read all about their fabric range here.

One completed Brick

63 pattern repeats, 378 rows and 13,608 stitches later, and Brick is completed. Whew! I think the recipient will like it very much - he's been hinting for a hand knit scarf for years, so this should suit very well. And I'm well pleased because my yarn stash is now officially 5 balls lighter!
I'll try and get some pics of the birthday boy wearing his scarf in the next couple of weeks. I dare say he'll look rather fetching!

Project specs

Garment Type: Scarf
Yarn: Jo Sharp DK Pure Wool in Brick, using 5 balls
Needles: 4.5mm
Pattern: One of my own devising, using a stitch pattern found in 400 Knitting Stitches, published by Murdoch Books

Dandelion

To be brutally honest with you all, I had never given much thought to the name 'dandelion'. If anything, I just presumed that the yellow flower head (prior to turning into the seed parachute you see in the pictures above) reminded people of a lion's mane. A particularly dandy lion's mane, since it was so cheerful and yellow. However, it turns out that dandelion is actually a corruption of the French name, dent de lion, or "teeth of the lion". The toothsome name refers to the teeth-like patterning of the leaves.

But what does the common man on the street, or rather in the garden, call this tasty plant? A wee (ahem) bit of research on Wikipedia has yielded some rather more diuretic results regarding the name's origin. In modern French, for example, it is called pissenlit, which means to 'urinate in bed' (lit is French for bed, and I'm sure you can all figure the rest of the word out!). In England it is commonly called pissabeds, whilst the Italians prefer to called it piscialletto (letto being, once again, bed).

Poor old flower! What names to be saddled with! Well, urine associations aside, there's nothing like the simple joy of watching Grumbles happily blow on the seeds, dispersing the autumn bounty in the hope that next year there are ten-fold more dandelions to watch out for.

Awe-summ!

I've been tagged for an Awe-Summm blog award by the three spiffy ladies of Ink & Spindle. Woo hoo! Thanks, girls! Getting this made my already goofy grin get that little bit bigger.

So the drill is thus: I have to list 7 things that make me awesome (what, a mere 7?!!) and then tag 7 other blogs that I think are equally awesome. Rightio:

1 - I sing out loud when doing the dishes when it's just Grumbles and myself at home, and then sometimes make up ultra cool film clips in my head. I may at some stage also indulge in some dancing. If that's not freaking ace then I don't know what is.

2 - I've read The Iliad. Twice. Hmmm, is that awesome or just plain bloody nerdy? I'll leave it up to you to decide.

3 - I taught myself to knit using the Internet. I am one with the technology, dudes!

4 - When I was growing up my siblings and I used to play "Cow Pat Frisbee". Let me tell you from experience that the key is to picking up a truly dry cow pat to toss, rather than the ones that look dry but only have a crusty top. I'm reminded of this because at the Dan O'Connell on St Patrick's Day this year I got some sauce on my fingers. As I chatted to my best bud, I bent down, grabbed a hunk of grass and wiped my fingers clean on it, burbling away the entire time, just as I used to do when I got cow dirt on myself. My friend shook her head and said "You know, Jorthy, I often forget that you grew up in the country - but this isn't one of those times!"

Cow dirt on fingers + knowledge of how to clean it off when miles from a tap = country style awesome!

5 - I am up to my 12th year of being TV-free. That makes me incredibly awesome, but sadly lacking in pop culture references.

6 - I've been waving to Vince Colosimo for a couple of years now, thinking I knew his familiar face from Story Time at the local library, and not because his mug is famous. We've even got to the pat-on-arm-hey-mate-how-ya-going-stage. Actually, that's not awesome, it's just SAD.

But do you know what's even sadder? He often does it first, and has been known to do that weird make-your-fingers-like-a-gun-and-then-click-your-tongue-thing at me before I've even registered his presence.

7 - I've made my own jeans! Which I'd completely forgotten about until one of my fellow kinder mums realised she read my blog, and got all excited about meeting me and then blurted the jeans fact to the entire playground. Hee hee, I felt kinda like a rock star. One with ultra cool jeans!


Now for the 7 blogs that I think are awesome (drum roll, please):

Karen Cheng

Claudia

Loobylu

Red Felt Flower

Nicole Owens

Hygge House

Alicia

All very inspiring ladies. Go check 'em out!