Any excuse for a clean slate, me. September has a great sense of a new start about it, too, but there is something about the turn of the year, eh? Not for me the grim resolutions, the promises to oneself hissed through gritted teeth. For me, it’s an excuse to give thanks for the year gone by, and make shiny plans for the forthcoming one.

2015, the beautiful blank page. I hope you contain travel and friendship, a few knitted garments I adore and new things to learn. I hope you give ease and lightness to dear ones in need of it, after a challenging 2014. Oh, and I promise this is the year I’ll get a hold of a really good blood orange to try.

Thoughts for the year ahead..

– make more things and have fun

– don’t sweat the disasters

– give tatting, art clay, sewing and crochet a good aul’ go

– use up my beautiful stash and give myself the gift of time instead


an open letter to January

Dear January,

Oh, how you try to fool us. You puff up your cheeks and make yourself look positively terrifying: a month of credit card bills that make one weep to look upon, joyless hikes to the gym on half a grapefruit/ a vial of some green gunk blessed by Gwyneth Paltrow/ whatever the latest fad is and bitter recriminations after the diet of Haribos and vodka that saw out the old year..

But that’s not what you’re about at all, is it? Really, you’re about the intoxicating feeling of a new beginning, if one chooses to think of it that way. Or the blank page of a new diary, perhaps. Or the transcendantly pleasurable couch + blanket + favourite film equation. Although you don’t want to admit it, January, what you actually represent is a time for drawing inwards, enjoying all the lovely things one has already, and the best, best fuel. You are a time for long baths, long walks and taking it just a tad slower.

January, I salute you. Without you in the year, where in the name of science would we ever get the chance to slow down and to enjoy all the good stuff?

In grateful appreciation,


P.S Could do without my part of the city masquerading as the first open air skating rink in Ireland these mornings, though.

P.P.S Is it alright if I just finish the last few pieces from the Milk Tray? It was a gift so it would be rude not to. If you are okay with this please give me absolutely no sign.

P.P.P.S Thy will be done.

note to customers and supporters

Before this year finally leaves us, a word in your shell-likes ūüôā

For those of you who stopped by Cow’s Lane, who gave your comments and feedback, who oohed and aahed over the wares, who gave me great ideas, who bought pieces throughout the year..

This could have been an impossible year, only for you. For your support and all else, thank you.

I wish you the happiest of happy whatever-ye-are-having-yourselves and a joyful 2010. Our final trading days in 2009 are Friday 18th December and Saturday 19th December, between 10am and 5pm. See you back on the Lane come March, and over here in the interim.

talk about the weather

While sales have been holding up, the weather certainly hasn’t. Being part of an outdoor market means you are completely at the mercy of the weather, which affects everything from your display (no more wine glasses with silk in them to show off earrings, everything Blu-Tak’d/ pinned¬†down to within an inch of its life, comparing notes on the marvel that is the safety pin and its hundred and one uses) to your apparel. Folks, you thought you knew what layering was- you are wrong. The Cow’s Lane folk could teach Arctic explorers a thing or two.

So, when inclement weather bites, you have one of three choices:

(a) hunker down beneath the table with a bottle of Calvados (or in my case, Mi Wadi Рsweeeeeeet) and pray to a merciful God that your combination of Blu Tak and fervent wishing prevents your lovingly crafted goods from taking to the air

(b) chalk it up, affect a philosophical world-weary shrug that would make Sartre applaud and move on

(c) concentrate on the brave souls who’ve made it out, commiserate with your fellow traders¬†and get knitting

You can probably tell that I largely favour option C (no blackcurrant until sundown- I have my standards), although it’s bloody hard to have a sense of humour when your catlike reflexes are tested to the max by frequent gusts of wind ;). Forget Pilates- try outdoor markets! The great company helps- as I’ve often said, there’s nothing like Biblical weather conditions to build some cameraderie and get to know people.

This weekend, we experienced those peculiar out-of-nowhere gusts of wind that send everything flying (including, for some unfortunate souls, parts of their displays) and biting cold. The worry of protecting your stock, combined with fewer people walking through, can really get you down.

But then, after chat and g√°ir and what have you (and the aforementioned knitting), I remembered all the amazing folks who have admired my work, who have bought it and returned for more.¬†I remembered their stories and observations, what they said they liked about my pieces. With this kind of feedback, it’s hard not to feel grateful and blessed.

So, if you’ve ever walked through Cow’s Lane and you’ve seen a wild-eyed, wilder-haired brunette hunched over knitting and you’ve said something nice or you’ve bought her work, (a) yes, that was me and (b) thank you very, very much. I am grateful to everyone who has supported WaterMemory, whether through word of mouth,¬†feedback or¬†buying my work.

P.S And what d’you know, look what I found when I went over Etsy way! A post entitled “An attitude of gratitude”. Ah, serendipity…