When I design a knitted character, the colour is often the first thing I fall in love with. A tiny blush on a cheek, a stripe that tells you a backstory, or a hat in a very particular mossy green can...
I’ve spent many summers walking festival fields with a notebook in one hand...
I once took a single Somerset folktale — a clever sheep that outwitted a...
I first started thinking about a weatherproof soundbox on a soggy Sunday at a...
I’ve sold knitted characters from a stall at dozens of weekend folk...
I like to think of a knitted character as a small ambassador: it carries...
I remember the first time a village storyteller told me a tale about a small,...
I’ve sold knitted characters from a little stall at more folk festivals than I can count, and one thing I’ve learned is that what you pack can...
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I love turning old stories into small, knitted lives — the kind you can cup in your hands and send skittering across a tabletop stage. Adapting a...
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Hello — if you’ve ever watched a flock of festival-goers tighten their scarves against a wind-blown stage and wished you could bottle that tiny,...
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I love a village fête because it’s where making and merriment meet: bunting flutters, local bands play, and children dart between stalls with...
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I still remember the first fair where I nervously pinned a price tag to a tiny hand-knitted fox and wondered if anyone would pay more than the cost...
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When I first saw Hattie Rowan’s dolls at a summer market, I was struck by the way each tiny figure seemed to carry a whole life inside its knitted...
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I often think of knitted characters as tiny actors on a patchwork stage: their stitches are costumes, their stuffing is posture, and their maker is...
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