Teapot Memories and a Squirrel Detour.

Though I’m back at work, the bootie knitting continues. I’ve surprised myself with how much energy I still have in the evenings—more than I expected, and it’s a welcome thing. The later starts in my new role help too, giving me space to ease into the day.

Most mornings, I manage 15 to 30 minutes of knitting or crochet before hopping into my wee car. It’s a gentle ritual—just enough time to add a few rows, sip something warm, and feel like I’ve done something creative before the day begins. Evenings bring more stitches, and the second boot is progressing nicely. I have to say, it’s looking much tidier than the first one.

I’ve been thinking about how best to tidy up the first boot. Maybe I’ll make a third and chalk number one up to the learning experience? While pondering that, I stumbled across some sock blockers online. Hmm. I’m not buying one of those just for a single pair of boots!

So I had a ponder and decided I’d make one myself.

As luck would have it, when I got home from work on Wednesday, Tony had a delivery. As soon as he’d opened his package, I claimed the cardboard it was wrapped in—good, heavy stuff too. I quickly flattened out the completed boot as best I could and drew around it, even that cheeky turned-up toe.

Next came the cutting, followed by a generous wrapping of waterproof bodge-it tape. I pulled the boot over my DIY sock block—perfect fit. Out came the spray bottle, filled with warm water and a dash of fabric softener, and I gave the boot a good misting. Then I propped it up on the bath taps to dry and walked away.

By Thursday after work, it was dry and smelling beautiful. When I pulled it off my homemade sock block, it held its shape nicely.

Loulee ingenuity at its best.

That first boot still isn’t perfect, but it looks a lot better for having been blocked. I think I’ll hang onto it. These boots aren’t meant to be worn—they’re for decoration only—And to be honest, I rather like the idea of them looking a little lived in.

There’s something comforting about a boot that’s seen a few adventures, even if those adventures were just in the making. A slightly wonky toe, a stitch that wandered—these are the marks of learning, of care, of time well spent. I’ll let it stand proudly beside its hopefully much tidier twin, a reminder that finished is better than perfect.

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Who remembers one of these? 

A Dolly Bobbin, French Knitting Doll, I-cord Maker—what name do you know it by?

I have three of these now, two of these Dolly style and one that is a wooden cotton reel with tacks.

I came across this one quite by accident while looking for something for Tony last night. It was tucked into a bag of yarn scraps I’d picked up at an op shop. The yellow yarn was already started, so I pulled out a crochet hook and was instantly hooked. As you can see, I added some pink last night. I’m not sure what I’ll make yet, but I’m enjoying the process.

When I was a little girl, I had one of these and made a long cord. My lovely Gran turned it into a teapot cosy. I can still see it if I close my eyes—her little teapot held just enough for one China cup of tea. Not a mug, mind you—a proper cup and saucer. I remember the delicate clink as the cup settled into its saucer, and how proud I felt being trusted to carry it from the dining table to the kitchen. I was so careful, afraid I might drop that precious cup.

The teapot sat on a wicker basket lined with a cork mat, heat-stained from years of use. The pot was silvery in colour, with a black knob on the lid and a matching handle. My Gran stitched my bobbin cord into a snug little cosy and showed me how to make a pompom for the top. Nobody seems to use tea pots these days, though I do still have a couple tucked away.

Now I’m leaning toward making a very, very long cord —perhaps enough for a rug. 

What would you suggest? 

Do you remember what you made with yours as a youngster?

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I’m working an extra shift tomorrow, and one of the girls I’ll be working with was on duty today. She knows I love to bake and cheekily asked if fresh baking might be on the cards. LOL—how could I resist?

As soon as I got home, I reached out to a friend for her recipe and whipped up a batch of raspberry muffins. They’re light, fruity, and I made mine with coconut milk instead of dairy—just a little twist that worked beautifully. I do hope my new colleagues enjoy them.

Easy Raspberry Muffins

🧺 Ingredients (makes 12 muffins)

• 250g plain flour
• 1 tbsp baking powder
• 100g golden caster sugar
• 75g chilled butter (coarsely grated)
• 1 large egg
• 175ml milk (I used more. 225-250).
• 150g fresh/frozen raspberries

🥣 Method

1. Preheat oven to 200°C (180°C fan). Line a 12-hole muffin tray with paper cases.
2. Sift flour and baking powder into a bowl. Stir in sugar.
3. Grate butter into the bowl and mix with a fork to coat.
4. Beat egg and milk together, then pour into the bowl. Mix lightly—don’t overbeat.
5. Gently fold in raspberries.
6. Spoon batter into muffin cases. Bake for 20–25 minutes until golden.
7. Optional: Sprinkle with sugar while warm or drizzle with melted chocolate for a treat.

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My back is improving—slowly but surely. These days, the chiropractor doesn’t have to work quite so hard during my visits, and I can feel the difference both at work and when I get home.

Before the injury, even the commute home was uncomfortable. I couldn’t settle into anything that required focus, especially not knitting. But now, with the pain easing, I find I can concentrate again in the evenings. Even focusing on fiddly sock knitting, and it feels like a small victory.

I’ve gone from three chiropractic visits a week down to just one. That shift alone feels like progress—a quiet milestone in the background of my days.

Now if I could just find my way back to the WIPs and the sewing machine instead of chasing yarn squirrels!

I'm sure that one day soon, I’ll thread the needle again. For now, the squirrels are winning.

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That’s the week: a little baking, a little healing, and a few squirrelly detours. Drop a comment below if you’ve chased a yarn squirrel lately, baked for kindness, or have your own teapot memories to share—I’d love to hear them.