I've finished the edging for the first side of the shawl. It measures about 42", stretched out on the carpet firmly but not excessively so. Blocked, it won't be far off the 47" the pattern hopes for.
I wish I had some sense of what proportion of the finished shawl, the edging constitutes. I hate knitting to a deadline -- but that's what a baby amounts to. I'm sure I've got plenty of time, but I worry a bit, here in the dark. Perhaps it's worth concentrating on the thought that it won't be born -- insh'Allah -- until not long before the summer solstice.
But in any event, I have laid the shawl aside and am now finishing off that sock, with the intention of then grafting the toes of the others which languish in the sidebar. Then the second stripey hat -- if Deramores proves as good as its word. I should be knitting shawl again before Christmas.
Mary Lou, I had never heard of Deramores either -- but if they can supply you with British yarn, and me with American, without customs charges, it's a name worth remembering.
Cat, I'm not organised. I'm just terrified. I pretty well know when it's time-to-get-up these days, not by traffic sounds beyond the dark window, but by my mounting sense of panic as I struggle towards another day of consciousness. I can't really imagine Christmas in midsummer -- but surely it can't be quite as scary.
I went to visit a neighbour today, who lives directly above us, way, way up -- but her address is around the corner, actually on Scotland Street. We had a nice time talking about our local murder. She has been interviewed by the police three times, although her windows allow no view of the scene and she is far too old and arthritic to be much about in the street. Nobody interviewed us. We didn't see anything either.
I failed to take the promised picture of my swift, but here is our local crime scene, at midday today. I asked the policewoman' s permission before I took it. It's not very interesting.