Are there NO Limits?

To the level of corruption that infests the Gentle World of Crochet?

Dear reader,

As those who have joined us in all previous incarnations, as we have struggled through life together, cannot help bu tbe aware of the high regard I hold for Regency literature, especially the works of Miss Jane Austen and collectively, whilst still individually: The Brontё Sisters.  In crochet as in life, this regard continues and I was once outbid for a Jane Austen Shawl pattern on eBay; at a fairly pausemaking amount.   I was willing to forego basic necessities for that pattern. But Alas, it was not be and five years of fruitless searching have not yet seen it come round again.

Where I was more successful was the purchase of a great many Bed Doll patterns, I detest Barbies en masse however I adore crochet where you can be a bit clever and add extra bits to catch a judge’s eye.

Armed with all the above driving forces, whilst trawling through a store that enables vintage pattern buying (though – not entirely convinced that 2002 counts as ‘vintage’) I did espy something that made me pause…

I would presume that “Dinner at Netherfield” allows the avoidance of copyright issues from Miss Austen’s estate, those who may also being taking umbrage at the misspelling!

I found myself spending a great deal too much time (i.e. Any!) trying to work out who our Plastic Twosome are supposed to be, or are they just trying to crash the party?


Sadly, Bambi turned to a life of Crime

And adopted a cunning disguise during his Bank Hold Up spree.

Australia Day – 2011

Australia Day, something akin to Independence Day in the US, Canada Day in Canada and so on.   The reason this post is the day after, well… there’s only so much Australian beer culture one can absorb and have time to do anything else.

This was one of the hottest ever days, coming after the flooding in Queensland and Victoria; driving many people indoors.   I found a small herd of our favourite National Icon lounging around on my farm, which prompts today’s Misstitched Post.

I do not expect Crocheted articles to be factually accurate, I do expect them to be fit for purpose, not garishly horrible and hopefully: well-made.  I also.. would like to be able to have a reasonable go at being able to recognise who/what they are.

Because just having a pouch doesn’t cut it for entry into Marsupial land.

And whilst my so-called West Highland White prefers to get around in shades of green…. Yeah no.

NSFW – For when Inflatable just doesn’t cut it anymore…

Living in the Australian National Capital brings with it an unexpected – some may say bonus, others would say scourge in the face of all that is decent- situation which can be confrontational.  Canberra has a large number of stores for those who wish to add some spice (or.. perhaps an entire shelf of condiments) to their rumpy-pumpy.

This means one has to turn a blind eye to the stores that promise all kinds of ways to “do it better!”, and sometimes it’s hard to know which store to go into when in need of a new dressage whip when two stores, right next to each other, have leather goods, whips and chains in the window.

The store that did not sell anything to convince a thoroughbred gelding to listen to leg aids recently decided to publicise a sale by placing on their roof a house-sized inflatable yellow Koala.  What erotic properties gigantic inflatable yellow koalas have, i am unsure, and please let me assure you – I have no real desire to find out.

Inflatable devices have also made it in the news recently.  Some of you may have heard of Oprah’s recent trip to Australia? and the massive flooding we are currently experiencing?  What you may not have heard is that some have taken to the impromptu waters with… impromptu watercraft….  with predictable results.

But – the fascination with life-sized anatomically semi-correct female dolls seems to have made it’s way into the world of Crochet.

And this is where you may need to check …behind…you… and swallow your coffee…

Because Oh my…

At least ‘she’ is wearing knickers! And… it would appear, Wonder Woman’s socks.

And at the risk of appearing as a member of the Breastapo, is it me or are those nipples crying out for pasties?