The Day off Badge Tee is a lazy knitter’s dream

A few weeks ago, on an absolute whim, I decided to do some polls on Instagram to find out what bits of knitting people hated the most. You know, all those fiddly little bits that we just really can’t be bothered with because inherently, it seems, a lot of knitters just like knitting and hate all the other bits that come along with it.

What started out as my being bored while trapped in the playroom turned into a bit of a contest where I pitted all those fiddly knitting skills against each other until we’d found the worst part of knitting. The thing everyone hates. The absolute pariah of the yarncraft world.

Seaming.

Why do so many knitters hate seaming?

Results from my little insta-poll

OF COURSE it’s seaming that knitters hate the most. OF COURSE it is. There is nothing worse than finishing knitting a garment and then realising that you still have to spend bloody hours sewing the whole thing together before you can wear it. That sense of achievement at casting off is immediately ruined by the realisation that you still have a metric butt-tonne of work to do before you can block your work, let alone wear it.

Trust me on this. I have many a project that has been abandoned somewhere in a pile of yarn because it had the audacity to require a bit of seaming.

I mean, if I wanted to sew then I’d sew, wouldn’t I?

We’re all kind of lazy knitters

If there’s one thing that did surprise me a bit from the results though, it’s the realisation that almost every knitter is, at heart, a bit of a lazy one. Nobody seems to universally love all parts of knitting. There’s always a corner that you want to cut, or a technique you don’t want to do, or a bit of the process you’d rather just avoid.

It goes back to something else I said on my Instagram stories; my driving instructor used to say you had to learn to drive two ways. The way that means you pass your test, and the way that people drive in the real world. I swear knitting is JUST like that. There’s how you’re meant to do it, with swatching and mattress stitch and using the suggested yarn, and then there’s how a lot of us actually do it.

Erm…I thought this was about the Day Off Badge Tee?

White woman standing in front of a plain wall wearing a lace handknit tee.

It is. For it occured to me after I’d finished posting these polls that I’d accidentally done a bit of a guerrilla marketing campaign for my newest design, the Day Off Badge tee (Ravelry link). For this pattern is the lazy knitter’s dream.

When I was designing the Day Off Badge tee, I basically did it in a way that avoided all the bits of a project that I hate doing. Obviously, since I hate seaming, it’s knitted in the round (although, fun fact, it’s very easy to convert to knitting flat if you fancy because as well as being full charted, the lace panel is written out for knitting both in the round, and flat).

Going the extra mile to avoid seaming

But the technique avoidance didn’t stop there. I get annoyed by seaming shoulders, because…well, it’s sewing again, isn’t it? So I decided to join the shoulders on this one with a three needle bind-off. I could tell you that’s because doing it that way gives a lovely stable seam for such a light and floaty garment to hang off. I could. But while the statement about the stability of a three needle bind-off is true, any claim that that was why I used it would be an outright lie.

Another thing that came up a lot as being absolutely awful to knit: picking up stitches. I know from chatting to people on my online knitting workshops, and in my Patreon knit nights, that people really hate picking up stitches. Knowing how to space them is a nightmare.

So I minimised that as much as possible; the Day Off Badge tee has a lovely wide boat neck, where almost all of the neckline stitches are placed on hold while the shoulders are shaped. Then you just have to put them back on your needles, pick up a measly 6 stitches on each of the tiny little sides of the neckline, and then do a bit of garter stitch.

Because 1×1 rib is also annoying to knit.

And there’s definitely no picking up stitches to finish off the armholes; you just knit the garter stitch edges at the end of each row as you work the main top.

You see? Super lazy knitting. But I’m not done yet.

How will you wear yours? (Answer: however you happen to put it on)

Because – and here’s the truly genius thing about the Day Off Badge tee – that boat neckline means that the shaping of the front and back are totally identical. Yep, you don’t even need to bother working out which side is the front and which is the back; you can just throw it on whichever way it comes and wear it with that statement lace panel in either the front or the back.

Which means you can get two totally different looks from one top, thus enabling you to wear it on consecutive days without anyone even realising.

And when you’re a lazy knitter, things don’t get much better than that.

The ultimate Scrappy blanket – a how-to guide

I’ve got a bit of a thing for mini skeins. If by “thing”, you mean “hoarding problem”.

Over the years I’ve had various subscriptions, and calendars, and just random purchases. My mini skein collection has grown. And grown. And then grown a bit more, until I looked at it the other day and realised the shelf it’s stored on was starting to overflow, and I had to take action.

Enter: the Ultimate Scrappy Blanket.

What is the Ultimate Scrappy Blanket?

Put simply (and this really is a simple one), it’s a great big blanket that I’m knitting to use up all those lovely mini skeins, and the various scraps and bits of leftover yarn I’ve got from all my projects. It’s a stashbusting marvel. It’s knitted entirely in garter stitch, using three strands of fingering weight/4ply yarn held together. It is perhaps the easiest thing you will ever knit.

How I made my Ultimate Scrappy Blanket

The “pattern” for my blanket is about as easy as you can get:

  • Gather together all your fingering weight mini skeins, scraps, and partial skeins
  • Decide which 3 yarns you want to hold together first
  • Using those yarns, cast on 140 stitches on a long 8mm circular needle (I used the cable cast-on, but you could do whatever)
  • Knit every row, introducing a new yarn each time one runs out
  • Cast off when you run out of yarn.

Dimension-wise, my blanket is roughly 50in/126cm wide. Length wise, I’m not sure how long it’ll be because I’ve not dared count how many mini skeins I have, but basic calculations tell me 60 mini skeins held triple throughout should make it about 70in/175cm long.

A few marling hints and tips

Depending on what kind of person – and knitter – you are, you may want to think about the order of your yarns. I’ve largely gone with whatever I’ve grabbed next, but there are a couple of things I’m finding work best.

While the obvious thing may be to think about the colours and try to work in some kind of fade, what I’ve focused more on is how the three yarns I’m working with go together. I’m trying to keep one semi-solid, one variegated, and one with a few speckles going at any one time.

And to avoid having a big load of stripes, I’m staggering my yarn changes so I’m not switching them all out at the same time. The easiest way to do this is through adding in some partial balls and scraps of varying lengths.

How to customise your Ultimate Scrappy Blanket

Before I get heavily into some knitting maths, I’m going to caveat everything that follows: the Ultimate Scrappy Blanket is by its very nature a bit haphazard and improvised. Using scraps and different mini skeins from different places means it’s more of a vague art than a precise science.

That said, you can do some maths to get a bit more of an idea of what you’re aiming for, and actually plan out how to get the best blanket out of the yarn you’ve got. So here’s how you can do that:

Yarn weight

I’m knitting my blanket with 3 strands of fingering weight/4ply yarn held together for some super-squishy marled garter stitch. Depending on what’s in your stash, you could faff about with this a bit. For example:

  • Hold one strand DK with one strand 4ply
  • Hold one strand aran with one strand laceweight
  • Hold one strand DK with two strands laceweight

The whole point of the blanket is that it’s using up what you’ve got, and even amongst yarns that are the same weight you’re going to find slight variations in thickness and length, so don’t be afraid to muck about a bit.

Gauge and yardage

My blanket is coming out at a rough gauge of 11 stitches and 22 rows to 4in/10cm. That’s pre-blocking, so I could open up the row gauge in particular by giving it a good old stretch; but I want to be super snuggly, so I’ll be doing my best to keep it as squishy as possible. I’d say 11 stitches and 20 rows is a good gauge to aim for.

Now, yardage is a little more tricky. Since I’m using all the little bits and pieces, it’s hard to be super-precise. But what I can tell you is this:

An 80m mini skein lasts around 14 or 15 rows.

Working out how far your yarn will go

It’s time for a little bit of knitting maths, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.

The best way to match blanket dimensions to yarn stash is to get into the nitty gritty and work out how many stitches you can afford to work.

There are 3 stages to this:

  • Working out how many stitches worth of yarn you have
  • Dividing that by 3 (because you’re holding your yarn triple)
  • Using that to figure out the best number of stitches to cast on.

So. Let’s walk through this, shall we?

Matching the dimensions of your blanket to your stash

I said before that an 80m mini skein will do around 14/15 rows of my 140 stitch blanket. To work out how many stitches that is, just multiply the number of stitches per row by the number of rows.

For simple maths, I’m going to say it’s 2000 stitches, which falls handily somewhere between the 14 and 15 rows.

Next, look at how many skeins you’ve got. Say you’ve got two advent calendars’ worth: a mere 48 skeins. Times that by the number of stitches per skein, and you’ve got a whopping great 96,000 stitches.

BUT. You’ll be holding those skeins triple, so to account for that you need to divide by 3. That gives you 32,000 stitches. Still not bad.

Now’s where you get the faff about a bit until you hit on something that feels right. Say I want my blanket to be 60in/150cm long. To work out how many rows that is, I want to:

  • Work out how many times bigger my desired length is than the gauge measurement – so divide desired length by gauge measurement: 150/10 = 15
  • Times this number by the number of rows in my original gauge measurement: 15 x 20 = 300

So that means I’m aiming for 300 rows.

What you want to do now is take your 32,000 stitches, and divide it by those 300 rows. This will tell you how many stitches wide your blanket should be. In this case it comes out at 106.667, so let’s just call that 106 stitches.

If you then want to really go for it and work out how wide that makes your blanket, divide that 106 by the 11 stitches of the original gauge, and then multiply it by 10. This blanket would be 96cm wide, which seems not bad at all to me.

OR, if you can’t be bothered with all that maths you can just wing it and hope for the best. Always a great excuse to buy more yarn if it turns out too short, hey?

Why the Long Tail Cast on is the boss

For a jolly long time, there were a lot of things I used to ignore when working from knitting patterns, because I couldn’t entirely understand why they were there. “Ignore it and it’ll go away” is a questionable decision at the best of times, and it’s definitely a bit of a daft choice at times when knitting.

One of these times, it turns out is when you’re ignoring the long tail cast on.

I use the long tail cast-on a lot now. A lot lot. I use it in loads of my patterns; the Ya Basic bed sock, the Jimmy Jab Jumper, the Bingpot Beanie, the I Smell Snow hat, and probably at least one more that I’ve forgotten. And the reason I use it so much is this:

The long tail cast on produces a brilliantly stretchy edge.

But before we talk more about why that’s such a good thing, let’s go back a bit.

Why you should use the cast on the pattern calls for

Now, when I learned to knit, I learned one cast on, and I used it for everything. I didn’t even realise that there were different ways to cast on until I’d been knitting for a couple of years. Even then it didn’t occur to me that these different cast-ons probably did different things. I thought it was probably a bit like getting dressed; the exact steps you take might be different (socks before trousers, or trousers before socks?) but the end result is the same.

Not the case.

I now know that the first cast-on I learned was what is known as the “cable cast on”. I also know that it produces a strong, stable edge. It’s a good all-rounder, this one. Except for when you need a stretchy edge, where it’s really, really rubbish. It’s far too strong and stable to be faffing about with any of that stretching stuff.

And how did I learn this? I tried to use it to begin a top-down sock. And then I tried to use it to begin a top-down sweater. Both were absolutely terrible decisions. I could not get the sock over my heel. And then I could not get the jumper over my head. Of course, being an idiot I didn’t clock this until I’d completed the rest of the knitting and found myself with an unwearable item, and a new appreciation that maybe I should’ve paid attention when the pattern asked for a stretchy cast on.

What’s so great about the long tail cast on?

Which is where my great friend the long tail cast on comes into the story. Ooh, that’s a stretchy cast on. It’ll go straight over my heel, and my massive head. It’s brilliant for top-down socks, and top-down jumpers, and anything where you need a stretchy edge. I tend to use it to start brim-up hats because…giant head.

Now, the only thing is that the long tail cast on can be a little bit fiddly to learn. It involves arranging your yarn around your hand in a particular way, and then wiggling your knitting needle through that arrangement. That’s why I looked at it and disregarded it before knitting that sock, and that jumper. Too much faff. Couldn’t be bothered.

Don’t make my mistake.

How to do the long tail cast on

Once you’ve got your head (or perhaps more your hand) around it, the long tail cast on is actually crazy easy. And oddly fun. You can really get some speed up once you’re used to doing it. But it is a cast on that you need to see to learn, really. Which is why I’ve made this little video tutorial.

How long should that long tail be?

The only possible pitfall of the long tail cast off is working out how long that famous tail should be. There are some handy mathematical formulas out there, but I’m going to be straight with you. I don’t bother with them. I take a guess at how much yarn I think I’ll need, and then I add on about a third again. I very rarely run out of yarn, but I do sometimes end up with some ridiculously long tails sitting there unused. So if you’re running a bit tight on yarn, maybe do try one of those formulas. And then let me know how you get on.

How to knit with German short rows: A not at all scary guide

Do you know what I really bloody love? German short rows.

Seriously. They’re one of my very favourite knitting techniques. If you’ve knitted one of my patterns, then you’ll know that I use them a lot, but I’ve never felt compelled to truly sing their praises before.

Until now.

What are short rows?

Now, before I get all over-excited about German short rows, let’s take it back to basics a bit by answering the question “what are short rows?”

The answer, like many things in knitting, is suprisingly simple. Short rows are – as their name suggests – where you knit only part of a row before turning your work. You have to do a little bit of a something at the end of your partial row to stop a hole appearing there, but we’ll get to that later.

Why would you use short rows?

You mean other than because they’re brilliant?

They can be used for all sorts of things to do with shaping knitting; adding high-low hems, shaping shoulders, creating “chunks” of knitting within a pattern (as in my Set the Tone scarf), and even turning heels.

And what are German short rows?

German short rows are one technique that you can use to avoid those holes I mentioned earlier. A lot of people use the wrap and turn short row method and think it’s fine, but I can only assume that those people have never used German short rows. Because German short rows are way, way better.

What makes German short rows so good?

They’re really simple. Honestly, they’re so, so simple. When I tried the old wrap and turn back in my early days I got myself into a right pickle trying to pick up wraps and then dropping wraps and then forgetting to even do the wraps and oh it hurt my head.

There’s no faffing with wraps in German short rows. What you do instead is make the first stitch of your row into a “double stitch”, which sounds fancy but really isn’t.

So how do I make a double stitch?

Creating a double stitch is surprisingly easy, and weird satisfying. And it’s the same whether you’re working with a knit or purl stitch.

To create a double stitch, you bring your yarn to the front of your work, slip the first stitch onto your right hand needle, and pull the yarn over the top of your needle to make a stitch with two “legs”. That’s it.

Bet you thought it was going to be a more complex thing than that, didn’t you?

What about getting rid of the double stitch?

Once you’re done working your short rows and want to go back to knitting the full row – or round, because you can use them for knitting in the round as well – you just work the two “legs” of the double stitch together. If you’re on a knit row, you knit them together. If you’re on a purl row, you purl them. That’s it.

Can I see German short rows in action?

You can indeed. I’ve made a handy little video tutorial to German short rows and creating double stitches. It’s even got a cameo from my cat.

And just because I’m all kinds of lovely, I’ve also made a handy little reminder pin that you can use as a cheat sheet.

Got any questions about German short rows? Drop me a comment below, get in touch on Instagram, or even send me an email. In case you can’t tell, I love German short rows and will be very, very happy to help.

2020: A year in garment knitting

(A little heads up: this blog post includes links to Ravelry, so if you have trouble with the site do take care.)

Here’s a thing: up until recently, it was a long, long time since I’d knitted myself a sweater. We’re talking 5 or 6 years long. I made excuses for this for a while; back when the Woolly Badger was in its Etsy store incarnation, it was because I had to be knitting stock. Then it was because they took too long, and I just didn’t have the time.

Really, what was behind it was this: I did not believe that my body was worthy of spending the time on a handknit.

Since I knitted that last sweater, I’ve had two children. I’ve breastfed them both. I’ve gone up two dress sizes. I’ve got a stretched out ribcage that will never quite go back to where it was before my sons shoved all my internal organs out of their way so that they could get a bit more growing room. I’ve even gone up a shoe size, because apparently that’s a thing that pregnancy can do to you.

And what I told myself, without realising I was telling myself, was this: this new body did not deserve nice knits. It would deserve them later, when the baby weight had gone. When it was smaller. When the knits would “look better”.

Well, for all the things that 2020 has taken away from us all, it has given me one thing; a nice, new sense of just not giving a shit. Sure, I do not love my body. I do not even like it most of the time. But I am never going to learn to be OK with it if I keep telling myself that it is not worthy of nice things.

And so, I started knitting myself garments. Here’s what I’ve done.

Projects one and two: the lace tees

Two lace tees hanging on a wooden slatted room divider.

Patterns: Geraldine by Agata Maciewicz (pink) and Waterlily by Meghan Fernandes (grey)
Yarn: Merino Silk 4ply from The Wool Kitchen

I love me a bit of lace knitting. I really, really do. And I loved knitting both of these tops back in the summer, because I used one of my very favourite yarns for them. Wool Kitchen merino silk is both crazy soft and just beautiful of colour, and paired with these lace patterns it made for some truly top-notch lightweight summer knits. I know it’s cliche to call things “light and airy”, but man, are these light and airy.

I even wore these two tops while I had my youngest in the sling, and neither of us ended up a horrible sweaty pool of grossness.

Project three: the everyday knitted tee

Woman standing against wall wearing a loose cotton knitted v-neck top

Pattern: Rock It Tee by Tanis Lavellee
Yarn: Summerlite 4ply from Rowan Yarns (found in deepest darkest stash)

Another light and airy summer tee here, although this time I perhaps got a tad carried away with the “airy” part of the equation. I went big on the positive ease, and forgot that cotton has a tendency to stretch out a bit. The final result has something of a tent vibe to it, but I kind of love that about it. Excellent for just lobbing on and still feeling a bit put-together.

Project four: the rainbow sweater

Woman in the woods wearing a v-neck rainbow striped jumper

Pattern: Camaro by Tanis Lavellee
Yarn: Milburn DK from Eden Cottage Yarns

I don’t think it’s actually possible to love a sweater more than I love my rainbow sweater. The construction of the pattern is magnificant; it’s really fun to knit, without making your brain explode. The yarn is a beautiful soft wool and silk mix, with perfect rainbow colours. The fit is magnificent. I get compliments every time I wear this jumper out. Which is a lot. Because I love it. I really, really love it. If I were a jumper myself, I would want to marry this jumper.

That got a bit weird, didn’t it?

Anyway. I love this jumper.

Projects five and six: the inevitable Love Notes

A close up of a pink, slightly fuzzy, lace jumper

Pattern: Love Note by Tin Can Knits
Yarn: Le Petit Lambswool and Le Petit Silk and Mohair from Biches and Buches

It was always going to happen, wasn’t it? I was always going to knit a Love Note after seeing so very many of them on instagram. And I’ve actually knitted two of them – one pink, and one blue – because it turns out everyone is right and this pattern really is a joy to knit. It’s also got me into high-low hems, but we’ll see more on that a bit later.

Project seven: the colourwork yoke

Pattern: Goldwing by Jenn Steingass
Yarn: Croft Aran from West Yorkshire Spinners

It was right about here in my garment knitting odyssey that I started to go a bit rogue. Up until know I’d done exactly what the pattern had told me to do, but I got a little bit adventurous here. Only a little bit, mind. I went up a needle size for a slightly looser gauge, shortened the body, and took the colourwork cuffs out of the equation. And I’m very happy with the result; this one is so supremely warm that it’s become my go-to ‘babywearing jumper’, because it’s far easier to get a sling fitting correctly over a warm jumper than it is over a massive coat.

Also: who said gingers can’t wear orange? Fools.

Project eight: the stash dive of dreams

Pattern: Soldotna Crop by Caitlin Hunter
Yarn: All sorts; leftover Croft Aran, some Mr B Aran, a bit of Ginger’s Hand Dyed Sheepish Aran and some other stuff that I found in my stash that is a total mystery.

And here we arrive at my latest, as yet unfinished, project. For which I have gone totally rogue; I’ve added the high-low hem (thanks Love Note!), improvised some colourwork at the bottom, am adding sleeves, and have knitted the whole thing in a selection of stash yarn that isn’t even technically the right weight for the project. And I bloody love it. I’m going to go ahead and give myself 10/10 for this one, just because I can.

And coming next…a Woolly Badger original

But, what is the moral of this jumperiffic tale? Is it that you should totally wing it and never bother swatching (totally didn’t swatch for any of these, by the way). Is it that everyone deserves a nice jumper? Is it that it’s totally fine to go off-pattern and make things your own?

Turns out it’s all of the above. Because after getting so stuck into this sweater knitting thing, I’ve designed my very first sweater. It’s for kids, it’s top-down, it’s seamless, and it’s really fun. I’m hoping to have it out early in 2021. Because sweater knitting is one thing that I don’t wish to leave in 2020.