Not much to report.
I’ve wound the first skein of madelinetosh sock for the tee-shirt. Two breaks: one a gently-tied knot, which I undid; the other a rather alarming frayed end which came apart in my hands. They couldn’t have m*ths at
The skein had only been here a few days, and couldn’t therefore have suffered
from our in-house ravenous hoard.
I’ll start winding a second skein today. Meanwhile, I’m nearly half-way round the Fleegle-Strong heel on those socks. I’ll finish that off before I do anything else, so that the sock will be in a state for emergency-mindless if need be.
Here’s the Gardening Sweater being blocked:
Zite steered me this morning to a Japanese on-line knitting magazine, Amirisu. I’m not sure I have entirely figured out how to navigate it. It is written in both Japanese and English, and features, as we say, both Japanese and Anglo-American designers. You can buy individual patterns as with the Twist Collective. One to note in EverNote? I think maybe I have succeeded in clipping and saving it there.
The first Vogue Knitting Book of them all, Autumn 1932, is on offer on eBay. I have only seen it there once before, in the years I have been pursuing this subject – and that’s the copy I’ve got. This one lacks its cover, a serious defect not shared by mine. I’ll be interested to see what it fetches. I had to pay a lot.
(Mine was bought from a charity, I’ve now forgotten which; some consolation for the price I paid. I presume somebody brought it in to a shop, and somebody there was bright enough to see that eBay was the way to go.)
Non-knit: worse, it’s rugby
Knitlass, I have never been able to work up much enthusiasm for
as one of the Six Nations in
this annual tournament. I’m still back there in the Second Millennium with the
Five Nations – the four here in the British Isles, with Italy for
is too far away. Italians don’t seem to fill the streets of Italy in the days before their matches,
the way the other Nations do. (We are all particularly fond of the Welsh, who
come here with their wives and their sisters and their cousins and their aunts
and their children in push-chairs and their leeks and their daffodils and fill
the city with cheerfulness. And usually win.) Edinburgh
If I watch any rugby this coming weekend, it probably won’t be Scotland-Italy, it’ll be Ireland-England in
Tom Lehrer still
ringing in my head: The Irish hate the English/ and the English hate the Irish/
and they’re both rather good at rugby/ and anyway I’m in love with Brian