My favourite person has survived the plane crash – see yesterday – and was last night, pale and wan on her hospital bed, re-united with her loved ones. Not a dry eye in the house.
Thompson and Morgan, the seedsmen, are sold out of parthenocarpic courgette seeds, although it’s only January. I thought you’d want to know.
Our youngest child – Helen, in Thessaloniki – is 43 today. How old does that make us?
Don’t miss Franklin's list of Stasher Movies.
Many thanks to all who helped me, yesterday, with the question of whether the Round Trip jacket is a shrug. Cathy herself, who had originally thought that it might be, now agrees that it isn’t. I remain tempted by Tamar’s suggestion that I just knit it anyway, and let the judges decide. (We're talking about my entry in the Knitting category of the Home Industries Tent at the Strathardle Highland Gathering this summer.) But I’ll browse recent magazines, and I have printed out the interesting pattern which Jade provided a link to yesterday. I could always knit _that_ in Noro.
The only shrug I have ever actually knitted is the one Mandella mentions, in A Gathering of Lace. It was, as I remember – maddeningly, I can’t seem to find it in the book at the moment – essentially a long rectangle with cuffs at either end. [My sister is going to be here for a night or two next week. One of my Projects for ’06 is to knit her a shawl – I must be sure to have her browse that book.]
Here is the current state of Rachel’s striped Koigu, in Strathardle. I was browsing in my archives yesterday – nothing so interesting as one’s own prose, as any diary-keeper will confirm – and discover that this project is more than a year old. Never mind. We’re getting there.
And likewise, with the edging of the veil. I learned in the post office yesterday that you are not supposed to send “woollen material” to China. Poof to that. I’ve done it before.