That's the KF yarn I had to ransom from the Post Office the other day. I must start leafing through his books again, always a pleasure. Queer Joe and Thaddeus are about to entertain the great man in their Very House, although the conversation will be more about quilting than knitting. I am struck dumb with awe at the thought.

I met him very briefly once when he was doing a talk for Rowan at Rackham's in Birmingham, where we then lived. It was a gloomy November evening and not many people turned up. Had he sulked -- and I have heard that he is capable of it -- it would have been ghastly. But he gave us the full charm and enthusiasm for 20 minutes or so, and left us, magically, talking among ourselves as if he had been a host getting the party going. I got him to sign my first edition of Glorious Knitting, feeling pretty schoolgirlish.

But, golly, Joe! a whole evening!

I've reached row 12 of the Princess Border. All goes well. I've pressed the Peg-It board back into service, just in case. But I've also fetched the incomplete Wallaby out of the cupboard so that it can lie there accusingly. I must, I will resume knitting it when we get back from London.

I went to the oculist yesterday and got my glasses fine-tuned for the results of the second cataract operation. He says that my plastic eyes will not slowly degrade as the flesh-and-blood ones did. The effect of the whole world digitally-remastered is stronger than ever, and still disconcerting.

He also said, seeing my knitting, that his wife is knitting as Christmas presents those furry, slinky scarves so beloved at the moment of yarn departments. They're very quick to do, he said, and I was briefly tempted. The trouble is, on reflection, I think they're hideous. And does anyone wear them? Edinburgh is full of people wearing scarves, but I don't see any of those. Maybe it's too early in the season. I think Hellie Ogden will be briefly home from Newcastle University next weekend, so I will see her in London and can ask. She will certainly know what's In and what isn't.

Comments

JoVE, thank you for the idea of consulting Valvona and Crolla's website for Christmas presents. Or even making that an excuse to go back to the shop. Fortunately for our solvency in old age, it's just far enough away not to be a daily temptation.

Pamela, no, I didn't eat the lemon skins after all, although I did eat the delicious interiors I had had to scoop out to make room for the cheese. And I did use fresh mozzarella di bufala, packed in brine. Whatever the trouble it wasn't that. I am now so sure that I didn't leave them in the oven long enough that I am about to try again.