I bought Vogue Knitting Book No. 3 on eBay yesterday for £33.62 – a bargain. I was the only last-minute bidder. It sold for four times that price on American eBay recently. I’ll be even happier once it is safely here – the mails have been very odd lately.

The same seller has recently sold both No. 2 and No. 4. Two I already had, Four I paid her a lot of money for. But that’s by the way. The question is – does she have The Big One? I’m holding my breath. She’s not a dealer, or much of an expert – she doesn’t know how to date them, apparently. Not that that matters, one way or the other.

I now lack only eight issues, including the much-desired first one.

Ravelry

Today I added sock yarns to my stash. This is a pretty solipsistic endeavour: no one else could be interested in my stash. On the other hand, it’s useful and interesting for me, and it’s no bad thing to take everything out of the cupboard every so often just to make sure that mice aren’t nesting in it.

Actual knitting

I’m not much further forward with the Princess. I went to a Drummond Civic Society committee meeting last night, and the poor old girl really isn’t committee knitting. Today (Wednesday) was my weekly osteoporosis pill, sit quietly for half an hour. I got through five rows, but only by extending the half hour slightly. So, row nine of the fourth pattern repeat.

Literature

Thanks for comments. Mel, I agree about Clive Barker. Kathy, I know of Herbert but have never read. Currently, I’m reading daughter-in-law Cathy’s new book, “Pool of Unease”. It’s her third – see sidebar. I don’t think it’s been published in the US yet. It’s good – no kidding.

My sister and brother-in-law should be back in CT by now, after a journey of nearly 24 hours. Starting with a full two hours in Edinburgh airport, then an hour and a half in Amsterdam, then at least two more in Boston waiting for a train which actually stopped in Old Saybrook. Plus actual travel time.

The taxi came here at eight in the morning. Before that, we were drinking coffee at the kitchen table. As I cleared the table I thought of a favourite passage in a favourite book – Fanny Price having said goodbye to her dear brother William:

“After seeing William to the last moment, Fanny walked back into the breakfast room with a very saddened heart to grieve over the melancholy change; and there her uncle kindly left her to cry in peace, conceiving perhaps that the deserted chair of each young man might exercise her tender enthusiasm, and that the remaining cold pork bones and mustard in William’s plate, might but divide her feelings with the broken egg-shells in Mr. Crawford’s.”