Little to report, needless to say. Last night we watched an inspiriting propaganda film made in 1942, The Day Will Come, or some such title, about Norway, Preminger. A good deal better for knitting-to than French subtitles. I am half-way across row 39 (of the 46 rows of the 10th repeat). The only place to go is on.
I have been reflecting – this is a very obvious and banal remark – on how important it is in lace knitting to keep an eagle eye on the row below -- or the row two below, if you’re doing the kind of lace with blank rows in between. I don’t think any of us can remember which type is meant to be called Lace Knitting and which, Knitted Lace.
I have an uncomfortable feeling that I went on far too long in my lace career satisfied to live with the vague feeling that Things Are Not Right, hoping that at least it would all go right from now on. It’s very easy in most lace to see at once whether it’s right or not, and to supply an extra YO (by picking up the thread between the needles) or K2tog as necessary.
I won Vogue Knitting Bk No. 38 on eBay yesterday evening – it was cheaper than No. 53 which I had lost earlier in the day. I am hugely enjoying this new, stress-free bidding. There’s another one (of the coverless ones in my collection) coming up tomorrow. And if anyone is interested, there is an unusually rich crop of 50’s VKBs on offer at the moment.
Cynthia’s enthusiasm for Marjorie Allingham (comment, yesterday) reminds me of a space-filling thought I meant to write a couple of days ago. We recently saw some of “The Bourne Identity” on television, but didn’t persevere to the end. It had some splendid explosions and some wonderful cityscapes, but the central situation seemed more than a bit flaccid.
It was Allingham, as far as I know, who came up with that particular McGuffin, in “Traitor’s Purse” published in 1941. Her hero Mr Campion wakes up in hospital suffering from amnesia but with a grim sense that there is something terribly important he has to do. I don’t think I will spoil it for anyone still fortunate enough to have the pleasure of a first reading to look forward to, if I say that in the end, he recovers his memory and succeeds. The second McGuffin – the important thing he has to do – is equally good.
I believe contemporary reviews said, Rattling good yarn, Mrs Allingham, but the ending is a bit improbable. After the war, it turned out that the Germans had had the same idea (or maybe they read the book). They didn’t succeed with it either, frustrated, perhaps, by some unknown, unsung Campion.