Nearly half-way through row 151 of the Princess border (the markers between the colour repeats are colour-coded to let me know how far along the row I am). Fairly rattling along.
Thank you, everybody, for your kind comments about it. It’s really easy, believe me. No manoeuvres fancier than k3tog. Everything flows predictably from the preceding row. You do have to think about every stitch, just as you have to think what every word means in Latin or Henry James. And that’s what’s fun.
I was seized by a bit of a panic yesterday about how long this is taking – the last thing to think about while Princess-knitting. I started nearly two years ago, in May, ’05. At this rate I’ll be dead before it’s finished, or, perhaps even worse, the rising generation will start getting married while it’s still on the needles.
I see from its history, however – I keep a copy of Lotus Organiser entirely devoted to knitting; lots of interesting stuff there – that I have worked pretty steadily except for essential interruptions: a First Holy Communion veil for granddaughter Rachel in Beijing; a 70th birthday shawl for my sister; the broken arm; the Calcutta Cup ’06 sweater. I don’t at the moment foresee any such pressing necessity – well, except the get-Obama-elected cashmere Koigu for Theo, and that can wait a while. So the thing is to work steadily on.
Maybe the little-boy sweater could be assigned to weekends, like cider. We’re going to London for some more art in Easter week. Maybe I could take it along, instead of socks.
Yesterday was largely devoted to cleaning, in anticipation of our friends’ visit next week. They are easy-going and uncritical friends, but still their unaccustomed eyes will see dirt that I can overlook. The trouble with dirt, I don’t need to tell you, is that the more you remove, the more reveals itself.