Today should be one to enjoy. Joe is coming, and together we can finish emptying the dining room. I must get in some beer this morning. I’m close to finished boxing the books and I think I’ve thought of a destination for the glass and china in the corner cupboard. There are other problems, none too serious, such as where to put the bookcase once it’s empty. It’ll be fun, with him.
Alexander, it turns out, is seriously worried about managing his father’s diabetes, and would rather be here managing the ceiling-knockers-down while we go to Strathardle. So that’s what we’ll do. I still don’t have a date and there’s no point in nagging the contractor until I hear back from Alexander as to what date he would prefer.
It’ll be good to get my seeds in, and the remaining potatoes – I’m very late, this year.
But there are sad implications for Knit Nation, if we ever have another one. (Nothing this year because of the bloody Olympics. They have a lot to answer for.) I was a signed-on, paid-up participant in the ill-fated Knit Camp at
in ’10, and for Knit Nation
last year. I didn’t get to either. Stirling University
When it came to the point, it turns out it’s no use just having a reasonably convenient venue and a reasonably convenient time of year. If I am to get away, I must delegate my responsibilities completely. I sort of had Loch Fyne in mind, for the third attempt.
The solution will be to involve James somehow – he’s not afraid of diabetes, because he’s got it. And all this may be pie in the sky – I might not be spry enough myself, by then, for such gadding about. I’ll be 80. What a thought!
I finished knitting the snood yesterday, as hoped. Recovering the stitches from the provisional cast-on didn’t go well. I had crocheted stitches onto the needle, you will remember. I couldn’t unzip the crochet chain. Because I was starting from the wrong end? But I tried both ends. Probably because the waste yarn was embedded in fuzz.
So I unpicked it, stitch by stitch, and I’ve got them all on a needle. They look pretty good, except that I’m one short and can’t see where it should be. Something to do with that curious half-stitch-off effect, I suspect. I am far less confident, now, about my ability to make a good fist of the grafting.
For this project, I’ll just muddle forward. But I feel I’d like to get to grips with the whole issue of a provisional cast-on and the structure of knitting when you’re going in the other direction. Candace Strick does her simple (!) socks toe-up with a provisional cast-on, based on the
cast-on. My next socks are going to be plain-vanilla with a Strong heel, but
the ones after that could well be Strick. Channel Island