My sister is the Queen of the Cosy. That is to say the tea cosy, or the coffee cosy, and perhaps others. One particular example she had in her stock, a neutral linen edged with multicolour silk pompoms, caught my eye and I begged it off her. In fact we have more than one of her tea cosies in operation already, a couple of chickens and an elephant (in the shape of), so didn't see the need to contaminate this one with tannin stains.
Instead I used it to transform John-Pierre/ Josephine-Pierrette into the High Priest of the Cosy. JP is my polystyrene head. I ordered him/her at very little expense from Hongkong via E-bay (same as all my lovely bamboo knitting needles and crochet hooks which I bought in complete sets for about the price of a single pair), because I had a fancy for making knitted hats and felting them but didn't really fancy shaping the wet soggy fabric on my own head. The head has the letters JP moulded into the back of his/her neck, hence the names, and is supposed to be a male since it is 23 inches in circumference, the female version being a couple of inches smaller which isn't big enough for me or many other westerners, and has been wearing the straw hat from Quessoy Straw Hat Sunday shown in the bottom right of the picture.
JP is also sporting a bow brooch also made by my sister, here she is making some more,
these ones shaped like birds which looks a bit like Nogbad's crows in Noggin the Nog, only more charming. I love Noggin the Nog, we paid a visit to the Isle of Lewis Chess Set in homage.
After a day of carpet cleaning and other such wholesome chores, and a morning of errands and cat feeding, and with no lessons to prepare for the boys for tomorrow as they are on holiday and doing Chinese courses, I indulged in a pleasant hour or two with radio, podcasts, dog and, guess what, knitting, which yielded this, a wonderful play about a block of London flats (apartments) and its inhabitants, and a man sent to fix the lift (elevator), who turns out to be something of an angel unawares, (but it's not one of those quasi-supernatural, oh-he-was-really-an-angel conceits, it purposefully subverts that several times). It's moving and uplifting and unsettling and well worth forty-five minutes if you have them, and it's available for a week from today. Also a Food Programme about slow and pressure cookers. Yes I really do get a buzz out of listening to such things. I learned that the pressure cooker was invented in the 17th century by an expat Frenchman in London using the lab of Boyle (he of Boyle's Law) out of hours, who cooked all kinds of things in it with a view to making rough and cheap food more edible to poor people. His invention failed to take off and he died in poverty, but pressure cookers are now the preferred method of all kinds of food preparation all over the world, except, it seems, among the British, who were put off by scary big aluminium versions with dodgy regulation and a propensity to explode, and the rather horrid bland and soggy culinary matter they produced, which I can only confirm. However, I shall now look with a little more favour on the next wave of autocuisseurs and cocottes minutes that appear to an enthusiastic reception here.
And that will do for today!