It’s cold here – the action of Evelyn Waugh’s novel Scoop begins on a “biting-cold mid-June morning” in London. This is just the sort of thing he was thinking of. Either that, or the state of the country, or even perhaps the state and prospects of my knitting, have enveloped me in gloom.
The things that are happening and are about to happen are in some ways like the things that opened the door to Hitler. There is no sign of him about that I can detect, but we do need a leader of some sort.
And I wonder, a bit, how strong the union is. All this hung parliament stuff is entirely due to Scotland and Wales. England, as usual, voted Conservative. The Conservatives are a feeble fourth among the parties in Scotland, and it is our reliably Labour seats, especially in the west, which keep Labour in business. Things are much the same in Wales, only less extreme. All very disquieting.
I worried, while we were away, about what would happen to the seeds I had left behind on the dining-room window sill. Those little cells dry out quickly. But they’re fine. I carry them anxiously about from one window to another, looking for sun and turning them to try to keep them straight. They couldn’t possibly spend even an hour on the doorstep, in this cold. They are mostly French beans, some dwarf, some climbing – my big effort for this year, along with spring onions.
We hope to go to Strathardle next week, and now I am worrying about planting them out. Even with individual cloches (made from sawn-off plastic water-bottles) and even waiting until the end of our stay, will it be too cold for them? But on the other hand, when will we be back? – especially if we go to Argyll at the end of the month.
I am moving down the foot of my husband’s sock, Oliver’ing away. (That’s a Ravelry link.) Today’s excitement will be finishing off a ball of yarn, particularly gratifying in my present state of abstinence, and particularly exciting because I started out with only two balls of the grey so the foot will have to be finished in something else. I’ll have to involve my husband in the choice – something sober or something crazy?
Ron, I never got very far with the circular sock needle. It sort of hurt my wrist, as many have found. I felt that it could be mastered, and would certainly speed things up. I meant to return to it – perhaps it would be most useful in the plain bits. But Knit Picks came into my life at that point, and I now can’t bear to put them down to renew the experiment.
Non-knit, non-vegetable, non-political
Today is the opening day of the Christian Aid Book Sale, a famous Edinburgh event. My Friend on the Inside has already told me that there will be a good selection of Vogue Knitting Books – but not the one I’m still looking for. Still, we’ll hobble up there after breakfast, and I will hope for something to cheer me up.