Here we are. We’ve survived the solstice. Can we entirely trust them to have thrown the switch Up There? But they’ve never failed us before.

We had a grand time at Loch Fyne, although my husband still hasn’t recovered much oomph since he came down with that cold three weeks ago. Rachel and her family are safely back in London – it’s a long drive – and we are here. Alexander delivered us to the door yesterday, whence he had collected us on the 23^rd.

Yesterday morning we were blasted from sleep at about a quarter to eight by a flash of light which filled the room and the dull, popping sound, much magnified, of a fuse blowing. My first thought was that the power point on the far wall opposite the window (into which my beloved iPad was plugged, charging overnight) had exploded.

It was, in fact, lightening. The house lost almost all power, a phenomenon none of us had ever seen before. Electricity, in our previous experience, is either on or off. But yesterday the Loch Fyne Mileses had lights which glowed dimly –so the lines weren’t down? – and nothing much else. They also lost their telephone (so no internet). Ketki phoned from her mobile while we were being driven home, to say that power had been restored. When I last heard, BT was promising reconnection for sometime next week.

The iPad is fine.

Much to catch up on, but knitting is most important.

Here is Arne & Carlos’ bauble being hung on the tree by James-the-Younger, shortly after the start of the King’s College Carol Service on Christmas Eve. This year’s soloist – the boy who sings the first verse of “Once in Royal David’s City”, unaccompanied, to a listening world -- was particularly glorious. That’s the moment when it’s all over; that’s when it starts.

Here are the two Brownstones, a few days later, on Big Thomas and Little Thomas. Fit is not entirely successful, in either case.

Here is almost the last of the yarn, as a beanie on the head of Alistair Miles, James’ and Cathy’s son. The fit is perfect, if I do say so.

Except for a sunless lull on the 27^th, serious gales blew incessantly. My husband couldn't attempt little walks about the garden, as we had hoped.  I got lots of knitting done. Those KF hand-dyed-effect socks are within perhaps 20 minutes, perhaps less, of completion.

I used to knit socks on 64 stitches for all the gents on my best-beloved list, until my husband found a pair too tight and I switched to 72. This time, I finished and Kitchener’d the first sock sometime last week. He tried it on and found the foot too big – “like a duck-billed platypus”. So I took it back to the gusset – the worst part of that is deciding to do it – and knit the foot on 64. It seems fine.

When KF’s random-striped Regia, colorway “anthracite”, arrived here some weeks ago, we thought it too blue. My husband is anti-blue. But now, in the solstice light even at midday, it looks like anthracite, and I think I will cast it on today, at least tentatively, for the next pair of socks.

And when they are finished – roll on, 2012!