Why I Keep Coming Back to Bobbles

One little stitch, so many ways to add texture.

The Humble Bobble

In my last post, I wrote about the joy of those smaller projects that take a little less time than the big blankets and winter throws. Lately, I’ve been thinking about some of my favourite crochet stitches, particularly the ones that add surface texture to my designs. One of the elements I find myself returning to again and again is the humble bobble.

There is something very satisfying about surface texture on a garment or a throw. I’ve watched visitors, including my grandchildren, take a throw off the arm of the sofa and drape it over their lap, and their hands automatically drift towards the textured areas. There is something about crochet that makes you want to touch it, and I think texture has a lot to do with that.

Of course, a “bobble” isn’t really one particular stitch. There are several different ways of creating that lovely raised texture, each with a slightly different character. Here are a few of my favourites.

Mock Bobbles

This is one of my favourites, although I only discovered it relatively recently.

Working with the wrong side of the work facing you, you make a short stitch – a UK double crochet or US single crochet – followed by a very long stitch, a UK double treble or US treble. Repeat that across the row.

The very long stitch folds over to the front of the work, creating a surprisingly effective little bobble.

I love this technique because it gives you texture without the bulk of some of the more traditional bobble stitches. It’s also wonderfully simple once you’ve got the hang of what is happening.

Clusters

Clusters produce a much rounder, more pronounced bobble, particularly when they are followed by a UK double crochet.

Clusters are worked with the wrong side of the work facing you, with several UK treble crochets worked into the same base stitch and then closed together. The following, shorter, double crochet pulls those longer stitches down, encouraging the bobble to pop through to the right side of the work.

The result is a lovely, rounded little mound of texture.

Popcorns

And then there is the popcorn – a prince amongst bobbles.

If you want your texture to make a statement, the popcorn is the one to choose. A group of UK treble crochets (US double crochet) is worked into the same base stitch. The final stitch is then joined back to the first, creating a much more substantial, prominent bobble on the right side of the work.

Popcorns have a definite presence. They aren’t shy little touches of texture; they want to be noticed!

From a Stitch to a Design

Sometimes a crochet design starts with a finished project in mind. I might know that I want to design a shawl, a blanket or a scarf, and then start thinking about shape, colour and stitch patterns.

But sometimes it starts much smaller.

It might be a stitch I want to play with, an interesting combination of textures, or simply a little swatch that makes me think, I like that.

From there, the questions begin. What happens if I repeat it? What if I change the spacing? Would it work as a border, a panel or an all-over texture? How would it behave in a different yarn?

And sometimes, somewhere along the way, that little piece of experimentation turns into a whole project.

Bobbles are particularly useful in this respect because there are so many ways to use them. They can be scattered across a plain background, arranged in stripes or geometric patterns, combined with other textured stitches, or used as a simple detail to lift an otherwise straightforward design.

I suspect that’s why I keep coming back to them.

If you’d like to see more of what I’m making, I share regular updates every Work in Progress Wednesday on Facebook and Instagram. There is always something on my hook, and quite often, it includes a bobble or two.

I’d love for you to join me there.

Until next time, happy crafting!

The Slow Satisfaction of Weaving

In my last post, I wrote about the search for the perfect project bag. Those of you who follow my work know that I’m a crochet designer who spins yarn and weaves. There is something about weaving that feels different from crochet. Perhaps it’s the preparation, perhaps it’s the rhythm of passing the shuttle back and forth, or perhaps it’s simply the fact that weaving demands my attention in a different way. Whatever the reason, I find it deeply satisfying.

Bead Weaving

I suppose my weaving journey started a long time ago. I have clear memories of making a bead loom from a cleaned burger-bun box, wrapping a fine warp around it and using it to weave seed beads together to make a band. An interesting exercise, a good way to use up lots of beads, but not something I ever chose to explore further.

Weaving Braids

When my children were small I belonged to an Embroidery Group who had booked Jacqui Carey to run a two-day kumihimo braiding workshop. She brought with her enough Marudais for us all to use one and I was hooked. I still have the wooden Kumihimo stool I bought back then, which I use to make braids to close my crocheted bags. The same Embroidery Group also invited Shirley Berlin to do a series of workshops, which I attended. She introduced us to the myriad ways of creating a braid: using stiff card with slots cut in the sides, using a Lucet, plying and twisting to name but three. I have so many samples from these workshops of techniques I still use today.

Weaving on an Inkle Loom

The Covid lockdown of 2020 became a turning point for my weaving. I had embarked on crocheting a Mochila bag, a very distinctive style of bag which requires a drawstring cord (hello kumihimo braid) and a wide woven shoulder strap. These straps can be plied by hand (apparently), or woven on an inkle loom. All well and good, but sourcing an inkle loom was difficult (and expensive). Not to be thwarted, I found a video on Youtube about how to construct such a loom. I also purchased a book that showed the dimensions that one should aim for. When I say ‘one’, I mean my husband. I showed him the video so he knew what he was aiming for and left him to it. He found enough timber in his shed for the project (old floorboards mostly), and a broom handle, and made me a fully functional inkle loom. It’s the only one I’ve ever used, as it does the job perfectly and I have used it to weave every strap for each of the Mochila bags that I’ve made.

Weaving on a Rigid Heddle Loom

An Inkle loom limits the width of the project you can weave, and so I decided to invest in a rigid heddle loom. This seemed to me to be the most straightforward of the various looms on offer, and I really wanted ‘simple’. I didn’t want to be wrangling multiple shafts, or giving over a huge amount of space to a floor loom. The rigid heddle loom can sit on the edge of a table, resting on your lap. I used mine this way for over a year before getting a floor stand which means I can work in any room, rather than just the kitchen.

Mostly I weave scarves and wraps (big scarves). I do have an idea about what I want to weave before I start, and will have chosen my yarns and colours carefully. Warping the loom takes a good hour or more, and I enjoy making decisions about the warp and colour changes as I go. The weft is where I really get to play. Mostly, I use my own handspun yarn for the weft. It has a lovely texture to it, and I enjoy the fact that I’m using it on a substantial project. Sometimes I will use a clasped-weft technique to put a wavy line up the centre of the scarf. Other times I might insert rows of intentional holes by using the Leno technique. I almost never weave to a pattern – I like to just weave, without worrying about maintaining a rigid pattern, while listening to an audio book. Currently I’m listening to ‘The Inheritance’ by Mark Dawson, an Atticus Priest mystery novel read by Simon Vance.

Perhaps that is what weaving gives me that crochet doesn’t. When I’m designing a crochet pattern, I’m constantly thinking about whether something will work, whether the instructions are clear and whether someone else will be able to reproduce it. When I’m weaving, I don’t have to do any of that. I can simply choose a yarn, throw the shuttle and see what happens.

If you’d like to see more of my weaving experiments, I share regular updates every Weaving Saturday on Facebook and Instagram. I’d love for you to join me there.

Until next time, happy crafting!

Sue

On a Search for the Perfect Project Bag

In my last post, I waxed poetic about fibres (I am aware that I am embracing my inner nerd on that subject). This time, I wanted to write about another subject close to my heart: the search for the perfect project bag.

Fair warning: the answer is not here. What I have realised, however, is that there is a perfect project bag/receptacle for each project, just not necessarily one bag to suit every project.

Crates

Let’s start with less of a ‘bag’ and more of a ‘receptacle’. I favour crates that measure around 12” by 9”, and are 6” deep. Mostly I buy plastic ones from Ikea, but I’ve picked up similar in B&Q and The Range. These are rigid, open ‘baskets’, that are easily moved from room to room, hold all the bits of yarn/notebooks/hooks/stitch markers/tape/scissors in one place and, when not in use, store easily in my works-in-progress cupboard. For a really big project (think large throws), I might upsize to one of the lidded crates that I inherited from my mum. She had a garage full of these, stacked up full of nothing very much. They each measure about 13” by 9.5” and are 8” deep. Not hugely bigger than my open crates, but enough to store the bigger project. I also have a range of felt crates, in various sizes. These I decorate with freeform crochet (well, why wouldn’t you).

Laundry baskets

Also more in the ‘receptacle’ line, I favour a nice basket. My mum had a vast collection of wicker baskets, which I don’t find comfortable to use as the wicker can snag on your work. I like a nice coiled rope basket (Ikea sell them). Many of the supermarket and homeware stores sell laundry baskets in cotton or linen, often with lids, which would work well too, especially for the bigger projects.

You could crochet your own, smaller basket. Chunky yarn and a smaller hook makes a very rigid basket for smaller projects. (Also made my hands ache, so I don’t make these very often).

Bags

The ‘go to’ item for any project. Who amongst us hasn’t used the nearest carrier bag in an emergency for stuffing all that we need to bring a project along with us on holiday. You have spent money on the pattern and fibre, you’ve invested time in the project – it deserves better protection than being stuffed in a crinkly plastic bag. I favour a large canvas bag with a drawstring top to keep my precious project clean on my travels. On a holiday recently, when my project outgrew the bag it had started off in, I purchased a very colourful, cheap, shopping bag because the colours made me smile.

You could, of course, crochet your own project bag. I made Toni Lipsey’s pattern for her Square One Project Bag from scrap yarns and use it for smaller projects when I’m travelling, or decorate a hessian bag with freeform crochet.

Lay Flat Bags

Who hasn’t drooled over the big name leather project bags – I know I have. However, I can’t justify spending £100 on a bag when I would rather spend the money on fibre. I did watch a video blog of someone comparing fake leather alternatives to these expensive bags, which set me off on my own research of ‘lay flat wash/cosmetic bags’. I settled on a quilted polyester travel bag from Amazon that cost me £14. I’m delighted with it – it opens out to lay flat which means I can see everything easily, and it zips up neatly into a compact shape that is easy to carry.

One of the advantages of having dedicated project storage is that you can put a project aside when it isn’t working for you, without losing the pattern, yarn, hooks and notes. Then, when you’re ready to revisit it, everything is still together. There isn’t a single “best” project bag —only the best one for the project you want to make. Perhaps that is why I’m having fun exploring the options.

If you’d like to see more of my ‘good ideas’, I share regular updates every Top Tip Monday on Facebook and Instagram. I’d love for you to join me there.

Until next time, happy crafting!

Sue

Why Fibre Matters More Than You Think

In my last post, I revisited my very first published Tunisian crochet pattern and started experimenting with a redesign. This week, I thought I’d step back and look at something that influences every project before the first stitch is even made: the yarn itself.

Two crocheters can follow exactly the same pattern and end up with finished pieces that feel completely different. The fibre you choose affects drape, warmth, stitch definition, durability and even how enjoyable the project is to make.

Cotton

A natural plant fibre, cotton is soft, absorbent and biodegradable. It resists pilling, but has a tendency to stretch when wet. Cotton has very little natural elasticity, so it doesn’t spring back in the same way as wool. One of my favourite cotton yarns is King Cole Cottonsoft DK, and I’ve used this quite a lot to make blankets and throws. It has a lovely weight, drapes well, and is very soft next to the skin. The only thing I’m always careful about is when I wash or block the design – after immersing in water, always lay the item out flat to dry. Some of my cotton blankets are large, and if I hung them out on a line to dry they would stretch horribly.

Wool

A natural fibre from sheep, wool is the traditional choice for knitting/crocheting. It is warm and durable, however it can be tricky to wash – who hasn’t shrunk a jumper by washing it too hot? Since I started spinning my own yarns, I have come to understand that ‘wool’ is a really broad term. It applies equally to a strong, rustic yarn spun from a Herdwick sheep to the fine, soft yarn spun from Merino. Personally, my own favourite to spin is Corriedale, usually in a blend with silk. One of my favourite commercial wool yarns is a Blue Faced Leicester from World of Wool in their Lowland range. I’ve just finished a shawl design using this yarn, which drapes beautifully. I’m thrilled to announce that the pattern will be in the World of Wool Yarn Advent Calendar 2026.

Acrylic

Acrylic is a synthetic fibre that is lightweight, soft and durable. It often comes in amazing colours and is usually less expensive than other fibres. The synthetic fibre is derived from petroleum. It is less ‘breathable’ than natural fibres, and is prone to pilling. I will use yarn with a little acrylic in it, because premium non-acrylic yarns are just too expensive to use exclusively. These days I very rarely buy 100% acrylic yarn. It has its place—particularly where affordability, easy care or allergies are important—but I find I much prefer working with natural fibres.

Bamboo

A sustainable fibre from the pulp of the bamboo plant, softer than cotton and hypoallergenic. Bamboo yarn has a glossy finish and this can make it feel quite slippery when working. It is also more expensive than traditional yarns, and finished items can shrink so this needs to be allowed for. I have only recently started working with bamboo. I like the finished feel of it (see my Strata Kimono), but it does take a little concentration to work with as the sharp point of the Tunisian crochet hook can split the yarn if you aren’t careful. That being said, the finished weight and drape are well worth a little extra effort.

Alpaca

Alpaca is a natural animal fibre that is softer than sheep’s wool and less prickly. It resists pilling and is hypoallergenic. Alpacas can be white, black or shades of brown, and these natural colours are lovely. The fleece can be spun into heavyweight or fine yarn. One of my absolute favourites, it has a wonderful softness and warmth without the weight, which makes it a joy to wear. Commercial yarns such as Drops offer a 4ply alpaca, or their aran yarn is an alpaca/wool mix. At Wonderwool Wales I found the lady who runs an alpaca farm and markets her alpaca yarn under Penrhallt Alpacas, and closer to home is Homefield Alpacas in Louth. Needless to say, I can’t walk past an alpaca seller without buying something.

There isn’t a single “best” fibre—only the best one for the project you want to make. The more you experiment, the more you’ll discover which yarns suit both your designs and the way you enjoy crafting.

If you’d like to see more of my fibre nerd showing, I share regular updates every Fibre Tuesday on Facebook and Instagram. I’d love for you to join me there and see what yarn I’ve been reading the labels of each week. I’ve also put up a (possibly) helpful free guide to a common range of fibres on my website. If today’s post has sparked your curiosity about wool and fibres, I’ve recently published a Substack article about learning to spin yarn and how it changed the way I think about fibre. You can read it here.

Until next time, happy crafting!

Sue

Colour Stories

In my last post, I wrote about tools as companions. This time, I want to talk about the colours I choose—and those I tend to avoid.

When I first learned to knit and crochet, and to read a pattern, I always used the colours shown. Partly because I knew they worked—they were often what drew me to the design in the first place—and partly because I didn’t yet have the confidence to choose differently.

Later, as a young mum, I was fortunate enough to complete a City and Guilds course in Design and Embroidery. That experience changed everything. I discovered that colour could be playful, surprising, even a little daring. I learned that mixing and blending shades could create something entirely new—and that nothing is ever truly wasted. Even the things that don’t work out can be taken apart, reimagined, and used again.

I think that freedom has stayed with me.

Purple has always been my ‘go-to’ colour. If I’m ever unsure where to begin, I start there. One of my early designs paired a rich purple with jade green—a combination I still love. A quick glance at a colour wheel shows they sit opposite each other, and I’ve often returned to that balance of contrast and harmony in my work.

Sometimes, when I’m lucky enough to work to a brief, the colours are chosen for me. While that can feel limiting at first, it often leads me somewhere unexpected—combinations I might never have picked, but which come together beautifully.

I also love the quiet magic of gradient yarns, where one shade gently becomes another, shifting the whole mood of a piece without any effort on my part.

And then there are the impulse purchases—the skeins that are simply too beautiful to leave behind. Those often sit for a while before revealing what they want to become. I’ve learned not to rush that process.

There are still colours I feel less at home with. Red, for instance, has never been an easy choice for me. But I’m beginning to explore it more, especially in blends where it softens into orange or deepens into something richer. Perhaps it’s just a matter of time.

Weaving, too, has taught me that colour behaves differently depending on how it’s used. The interplay between warp and weft can soften, sharpen, or completely transform a palette. Colours you expect to dominate may recede, while quieter tones come forward.

In the end, I think colour is deeply personal. There are no right or wrong choices—only the ones that resonate with you.

Whatever colours make you smile, those are the ones to use.

Happy crafting

Tools as Companions

In my last post, I wrote about slow making. This time, I want to talk about the tools that make that possible—the quiet companions that sit in our hands and shape what we create.

Mostly, I crochet. My mum taught me when I was about nine years old, showing me how to form chains with a slim metal hook. For years, those narrow hooks—sometimes metal, sometimes plastic—were all I used. I didn’t realise there were alternatives.

Then I discovered hooks with cushioned, shaped grips.

I started with KnitPro, as they were the most affordable, and gradually moved on to Clover Amour hooks. I even tried Tulip Etimo—beautiful, comfortable, and a pleasure to use. For a long time, I coveted a Furls hook. They look so elegant. I was lucky enough to receive one as a birthday gift from my daughter… but sadly (and I do mean sadly), it was simply too long for my small hands.

That was when I truly understood just how much variation there is in crochet hooks—and how personal the “right” tool can be.

Finding hooks that suit your hands is a game-changer. My advice? Start with the size you use most often and try different styles. You can always build your collection slowly. Of course, the temptation to buy a full matching set is real—I’m certainly not immune. The Knitter’s Pride Terra set somehow made its way into my basket one day, and I absolutely adore the wooden handles.

Some years ago, while browsing in my local wool shop, I came across a display of unusual hooks in beautiful colours. When I asked what they were for, I was introduced to Tunisian crochet—a technique I knew nothing about at the time.

Then the Covid lockdowns arrived, and suddenly I had the time to explore.

Tunisian hooks are either long, or shorter with a cable attached. I began with the KnitPro Symfonie interchangeable hooks (drawn in, I admit, by their colours). Over time, my collection has grown: a set of KnitPro Ginger hooks from my husband, which I love; a smaller set of Lantern Moon hooks, which come with the best cable key I’ve ever used; and an assortment of long, double-ended KnitPro Trendz hooks.

I also spin, and I’m the proud owner of an Ashford Traveller 3 spinning wheel. It’s a beautiful piece of equipment, and spinning with it feels both productive and meditative. I began with a simple drop spindle, which is still a wonderful, portable way to spin, but the wheel allows me to create yarn more efficiently while still enjoying the rhythm of the process.

Once the yarn is spun, I turn skeins into usable cakes using a yarn swift and a ball winder. Mine are the simplest (and cheapest) I could find—but they do their job perfectly well. Not every tool needs to be luxurious to be loved.

When it comes to weaving, alongside my rigid heddle loom and shuttles, the most unexpectedly useful item I own is a small wheeled trolley. It holds all my bits and pieces, moves easily to wherever I’m working, and—crucially—has space for a mug of coffee.

Because sometimes, the most valuable tools aren’t the obvious ones.

Over time, I’ve come to think of my tools not just as equipment, but as companions. Each has its own feel, its own purpose, and its own place in the rhythm of making.

Whatever tools you reach for, may they serve you well—and may they bring you joy in the making.

Happy crafting.

Slowness

In my last blog post I wrote about rhythm and routine. This time, I want to linger a little longer on something closely related: slow making.

Making things with yarn makes me happy. Crochet, spinning and weaving — my preferred methods of making — are, by their very nature, slow. No matter how urgent the project or how close the deadline, if something is going to be made well, it takes time. There is something quietly grounding about sitting down and picking up a project. Your breathing slows. Your shoulders soften. Your focus narrows to yarn and hook, fibre and spindle. Slowness isn’t a weakness in the process; it is the process.

Whenever I try to rush, it rarely ends well. I’ll spot a fairly calamitous mistake six inches back and end up “frogging” everything done in haste. Yarn has a way of reminding you that care and patience matter.

If you’ve seen my social media this week, it might look as though everything has happened at once. Two patterns released. A design published in a magazine. Very productive. Very busy.

But none of it was fast.

A magazine commission

The current issue of Simply Crochet includes a scarf pattern I designed. The initial concept was sent to the editor in June 2025. Colours and yarn were agreed. The deadline for submission was December 1st. After that, the pattern was tech edited, the scarf was modelled and photographed, and the issue was published in February 2026.

From idea to publication: eight months.

Sometimes deadlines are shorter, sometimes longer, but the principle remains the same. The making must be careful. The pattern writing must be clear and accurate. Time has to be budgeted generously and realistically.

And I will admit — it is always a thrill to see my work professionally styled, modelled and photographed. That part never gets old.

Pistachio Breeze Top

One of the patterns I released this week, the Pistachio Breeze Top, began life in November 2025.

I had a picture in my mind: an oversized top in a very particular shade of green. I spent time browsing yarns, considering weight and fibre content. Once I settled on the right yarn, I sampled. I sketched. I even cut the shape out of brown paper to create a template to work from.

From first spark of an idea to finished design, it took almost four months.

That is the reality behind what looks like a single “new release” post.

Every Last Scrap Cowl

The second pattern, the Every Last Scrap Cowl, is smaller — but no less slow in its origins.

The yarn is entirely handspun. Over half of it came from a Yorkshire Blends sample box bought from Wingham Wools in January. As part of my ongoing quest to improve my spinning, I spent a lovely morning at Old School Crafts Minting with Zoe, who showed me how to chain ply.

The spinning itself was slow and thoughtful. The design process was intentionally simple — I wanted the yarn to shine. The making felt joyful and, compared to the spinning, relatively quick over a couple of weeks.

The pattern is available free on my refreshed Free Crochet Hub page — a small celebration of using every last precious length of yarn.

A slow maker’s desk

I am, unapologetically, a slow crafter — and someone who always has several works in progress.

At the moment I have:

A scarf on my rigid heddle loom
A crochet shawl design in a glorious gradient yarn (for an intermediate crocheter)
A bobble hat in testing (for a confident beginner)
A Tunisian crochet poncho design almost finished (for a confident beginner)
A moss stitch shawl design started purely for the pleasure of something gentle and undemanding

On the spinning wheel, I’m nearly at the end of a sample box from Adelaide Walker, a Christmas gift from my husband. I have no doubt those yarns will find their way into a future design.

Slowness doesn’t mean stagnation. It means depth. It means intention. It means allowing ideas to unfold at the pace they need.

And in a world that often feels rushed, I think that matters.

Happy crafting,
Sue

Creative Rhythm & Routine

Rhythm and Routine: How Creativity Fits into Daily Life

I’ve had a little break from blogging — you may have noticed — because life has simply been busy. But even when I’m not writing about creativity, I’m still living it. So this week I wanted to reflect on how creativity weaves its way through everyday life, even when the days feel full.

An Ideal Creative Day

Sometimes creativity is carefully planned; at other times it’s squeezed into the gaps of a hectic schedule.

On a day with fewer responsibilities, the rhythm might look like this: a little spinning after breakfast while listening to a podcast,

followed by time at the computer — catching up on media, submissions, pattern drafting and writing. Later, uninterrupted time to crochet and test a more complex design.

After lunch, I walk the dog (often when my best ideas arrive), then home for a hot drink and a focused session on a current magazine commission. If time allows, I’ll weave before starting dinner.

Evenings are gentler. I pick up what I call my “evening project” — crochet that doesn’t require too much mental bandwidth, so I can listen to the radio or watch television while my hands are busy working.

It’s not always like this, of course. But having a loose rhythm helps. Creativity doesn’t demand perfection — just presence.

Seasonal Creativity

Design advice often suggests working ahead of the season — thinking about Valentine’s Day in October, summer in January. I understand the logic, but I find I simply can’t do it.

I respond to the season I’m in. When the weather turns cold, I crave cosy aran makes. When the sun appears, I long for light, breezy wraps. My creativity follows the temperature, the light, and my mood.

That said, the reality of publishing means some projects begin months before they’re seen. Occasionally, this means I do publish “on time.” More often, I publish when the piece feels finished — whatever the date.

At the moment, I’m working on:

a cosy wool cowl (perfectly seasonal),
a lightweight wrap (the bright yarn was bought in summer and is cheering me through winter),
an aran poncho (again, seasonally satisfying),
and an enormous Tunisian crochet blanket commissioned by a magazine for summer publication.

And if I’m honest, after a rather miserable phone call this morning, I’m very tempted to begin something entirely new — a little creative displacement activity. Sometimes starting is soothing.

Creative Spaces

Over the years, as my family has grown and left home, my creative spaces have quietly expanded throughout the house.

My daughter’s old bedroom is technically my “craft room,” but projects live everywhere. The magazine commission blanket resides in the dining room. My evening crochet and spinning wheel are in the living room. The weaving loom has taken up a semi-permanent residence on the kitchen table. The wardrobe in my son’s old room has been converted into yarn storage.

Creativity doesn’t stay neatly in one place — and I’ve stopped trying to contain it.

My advice? Always have a project to hand. Keep it in a crate or bag so you can move it easily. If a spare half hour appears, you’re ready. Those small, snatched moments add up. They form their own rhythm.

Returning to the Rhythm

After a blogging pause, I’m reminded that creativity doesn’t disappear when life gets busy — it simply changes pace. Sometimes it’s bold and productive; sometimes it’s quiet and restorative. Both count.

The important thing is to keep returning to it.

Happy crafting,
Sue

Preparing to Craft

In my last blog post, I shared a few thoughts about different types of fibres. This week, I’d like to look at some of the small but important steps to take before you settle down to spend time crafting. For me, preparation is not a chore to rush through, but a quiet part of the making process in its own right.

Gauge

Sometimes gauge matters, and sometimes it really doesn’t. If you’re planning to make a fitted garment, it’s worth taking the time to work a sample using your chosen yarn and hook or needles. Nobody enjoys making a gauge swatch, but it’s far worse to spend hours on a project that turns out far too big or far too small.

For items such as blankets, throws, or cushion covers, gauge is usually less critical. A few extra rows or stitches more or less will often make up any discrepancy. I have a small mountain of gauge samples and swatches which, when the mood takes me, I add to whichever freeform crochet project I’m working on.

Yarn Balls and Skeins

Some balls of yarn are designed for a centre pull, and others really aren’t. I quite like a centre pull, as it stops the yarn rolling around while I’m working. Sometimes you’re lucky and find the end with very little fuss; other times you’re rewarded with an impressive yarn barf, feeling as though you’ve disembowelled the ball entirely.

Some crafters wind all their yarn into neat cakes as a matter of course. I’m not one of those people — I tend to take my chances. That said, if you’re working with skeins, they absolutely must be wound into a ball or cake before use. Skipping this step is almost guaranteed to lead to tangled fibre and hours of unnecessary frustration.

Read the Pattern

Before you begin, take a moment to read the pattern properly and make sure you have everything it calls for. Alongside needles or hooks, does it require stitch markers, cable needles, stitch holders, or beads? There’s nothing more frustrating than getting into a good rhythm, only to have to stop and wait for the shops to open because you’re missing a crucial item.

Spinning Fibre

When spinning, I usually work with combed tops. The best advice I ever received was to pre-draft — gently easing the fibres apart along their length between your hands, working down the fibre and back again. It makes the spinning process feel much easier and more controlled.

Once you’ve filled a bobbin with singles, let the fibre rest for at least 24 hours before plying. That pause really does make a difference.

Weaving Fibre

I weave on a rigid heddle loom, and once I’ve chosen the yarn for my warp, my next decision is the size/dent of the reed. I have a bamboo blind, cut to size, on the back beam, so that when I wind on the warp, the yarn spreads evenly. The warp has a huge impact on the finished fabric, so it’s worth taking your time here.

However you choose to spend your crafting time, I hope these reflections encourage you to enjoy the preparation as much as the making itself.

Happy crafting — and next time, I’ll be turning my focus to the tools I find most useful.

Sue

Exploring Fibres

In my last blog post I shared a few ideas for cosy crochet projects — the kind of slow, comforting makes that are perfect for chilly evenings. For this first post of 2026, I wanted to begin the year a little more thoughtfully, by turning my attention to the fibres themselves.

Over time, I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to natural fibres. Acrylic and other man‑made yarns certainly have their place — their colours can be wonderfully vibrant and they’re often more budget‑friendly — but when it comes to my own making, I tend to reach for cotton, wool and alpaca. There’s something about their texture, warmth and connection to nature that feels especially fitting for slower, more mindful crafting.

Cotton

The cotton yarn I use most often is King Cole Cottonsoft DK, which comes in a generous range of colours and features in many of my throw designs. As a natural plant fibre, cotton is soft, absorbent and biodegradable, making it a versatile choice for both knitting and crochet projects. Cotton resists pilling well, though it does have a tendency to stretch when wet and isn’t as elastic as some other fibres.

You may also notice some cottons described as mercerised — a chemical process that adds strength and a subtle sheen. A good example is Scheepjes Maxi Sugar Rush, which I enjoy using for crocheted mandalas, where stitch definition and lustre really shine.

Wool

Wool, shorn from sheep, is the traditional choice for knitting and crochet. It’s warm, durable and wonderfully adaptable, though it does require a little care — most of us have, at some point, accidentally shrunk a favourite jumper! Some wool yarns are labelled Superwash, meaning they’ve been treated so they can be washed more easily. I often buy indie‑dyed sock and DK yarns from Moonlight Fibre and Fruitful Fusion, typically blends of Superwash merino and nylon that balance softness with strength.

Alongside this, spinning is an important part of my practice. I enjoy making my own yarn from undyed or dyed combed tops, sourced from Adelaide Walker or Wingham Wools. The process deepens my connection to the fibre and gives me complete control over the finished yarn.

One of my more recent discoveries is a Yak Sock base from Noodle Soup Yarns — a blend of 70% merino, 20% yak and 10% nylon. The addition of yak creates a beautifully soft yarn, and I’ve been very impressed with how it feels and works up. It’s definitely one I’ll return to.

Alpaca

Alpaca is another natural animal fibre that I’m especially fond of. Softer than sheep’s wool and generally less prickly, it’s also hypoallergenic and resistant to pilling. Alpacas produce fleece in a range of natural shades — from white through to black and warm browns — which are lovely in their own right. Alpaca fleece can be spun into both fine and heavyweight yarns. I’ve previously used alpaca from Homefield Alpacas, and I’m currently knitting with King Cole Natural Alpaca, which is beautifully soft and a pleasure to work with.

However you choose to spend your crafting time, I hope these reflections encourage you to embrace slower making, warmer fibres, and projects that bring a little extra comfort at this time of year.

Happy crafting — and next time, I’ll be turning my focus to the preparation that happens before the making begins.

Sue