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Designed by me Family Kitty

Sunshine dreaming

July 012A

In the cool of the night our little girl is fast asleep. I think she may be dreaming of sunshine, of a day spent running around outside in and out of the shade, chasing daisies, taking pictures on Mama’s camera and the stickiness of cherry ice-cream.

After a week couped up with tiny nose pressed to the patio doors watching drips trickle slow and fast down the glass, she had energy for ‘out’ and some to spare.

So today we’ve danced barefoot on the lawn, peeped through gazebo trellis, chased Dada and our ball and chattered away all the time.

And I have finally, finally finished (subject to blocking and buttons) a little cardigan I’ve been designing for Kitty since about March.  I’ve had to rip back at least once to add some extra length for our ever growing little girl – a tip to speed up the design process to slightly less than four months if ever there was one.

From the brief seconds in which I persuased a Kit more interested in her scrambled eggs into trying it on, I think it should fit, and I’m expecting it to grow a smidgen with blocking anyway and there’s even half a chance I’ll write up the pattern before she entirely grows out of it.

But for now I’m as sleepy as my little girl so I’m heading off to dream of the most amazing pudding that I ate at lunch (more on that when I get a chance to load my pictures from my camera) and the feel of the sun on my skin – I think I might need it to last me for a while.  

10 really great things about the English summer


1. No need for special clothing.  I read people all around the world talking about a need to ‘switch over’ their winter and summer wardrobes, and the problems that go with storing appropriate clothing for ‘take off your skin and sit in your bones’ heat and ‘if you step outside your nostrils will freeze’ cold.  Here we have no such first world problem, it’s vests, warm wooly socks and long sleeves all the way, with just the one occasional pair of shorts to be extracted, creased and ever so slightly dusty, on the few days when the thermometer rises high enough to merit the risks of baring blinding white knees to that thing they call sun.


10. When it comes it’s glorious.