Knitting

I finished off the KF socks for Thessaloniki. Helen's feet are of different sizes -- I always add half an inch to one of her socks, to accomodate this oddity. Hence the bright stripe.

I started a Yarn Yard pair for Rachel, and in fact finished the initial ribbing.

Still no new KF yarn.

There was major, sad news on the knitting front in the paper this morning: the England cricket team is to abandon cabled sweaters in favour of "fleeces". I have always lamented the fact that cricket sweaters aren't given the place I feel they deserve in the histories of British traditional knitting. They go back well into the 19th century, like fisherman's sweaters, considerably before anyone was wearing Fair Isle in public. Perhaps there was be interesting articles on the historical background in the Sunday papers this weekend.

Comments

Shan, thank you.

Beverley, I am excited that you have family connections with Alyth. I love it. We go there not only for my husband's haircuts, but also to buy meat from Mr Dorward who is probably the best butcher in the world, and to nip in to Sim's the ironmonger -- there aren't many proper ironmongers left anywhere -- and to buy pinhead oatmeal from the baker. There's no LYS, but there is a local group that knits for charity. I donate stash from time to time. That's a lot of reasons to visit a small place.

I'll take pictures for you the next time I'm there.

Tamar, I am also excited by your idea that Don Quixote's fixation may suggest an underlying fear of windmills. I wish I could think of an analogy to express the terror our new windfarm inspires. Like meeting a tyrannosaurus rex up there? At least that would have been a living creature.

The fire we saw couldn't have been a vehicle fire -- it was down by the river side, and too widespread. The land drops quite sharply over there from the level of the road, and then there is a flat bit beside the river. My husband kept saying of the fire as we stood watching, "It's in the haugh." It wasn't a word I knew, and it didn't seem quite the moment to ask for elucidation. I found it in the OED yesterday, a word in use in the north of England and in Scotland:

"A piece of flat alluvial land by the side of a river, forming part of the floor of the river valley. The original sense was perh. corner or nook (of land) in the bend or angle of the river. A northern stream usually crosses and recrosses the floor of its valley, striking the base of the slope on each side alternately, and forming a more or less triangular haugh within its bend, on each side in turn."

What does a southern stream do, then: just plod on remorelessly to the sea? The course of the Thames through London suggests otherwise.

So that when we drove within a few yards of the scene, on our way to Edinburgh on Wednesday, there was nothing to be seen except wisps of smoke rising from down by the river.

I have made no progress in finding out what happened. The friend I kept phoning yesterday must be away. I'll try a different tack today.