Safely back. We had a good time, ate well and laughed much. Pics soon -- the computer is being intolerably slow just now.

Alexander, assuming the role of Job’s Comforter, had tales to tell of ceilings coming down well after the day of the inundation. I had been worrying about that possibility somewhat. At least, had been aware that it is a possibility. Now I am worrying about it a lot. How long before we are more or less in the clear?

I drove home yesterday convinced we would find the house covered in plaster – we had deliberately left the dining room door open, for air. But the ceiling is still up there.

I finished the Zauberball socks for myself. I cannot remember ever before having, in knitting, the experience one sometimes has with a really good book, of being sorry that it is coming to an end. Counting the pages that remain, in the one case; seeing the coming colour bands and realising that you’re not going to reach them, in the other. A Zauberball is wound so that you can do that.

Both Hellie and Lizzie, Rachel’s daughters, say that they would welcome socks. And both have very small feet, like their mother! So I cast on the Opal Hundertwasser yarn for Lizzie.

We watched a rather interesting documentary about the history of plastic last night, being too tired to try follow anything more sequential. The time line was more or less that of our lives, starting somewhere in the early 20^th century. And there I was, knitting my sock with yarn that is 25% polyamid. Whatever that means – but it certainly means that the yarn feels like wool and washes like cotton and won't need darning soon.

Next, of course, that snood.

I asked Lizzie and Hellie what they understood by the word (as Young People). They instantly answered that it was something like the object I am going to knit, an “infinity scarf”. So that’s all right.

I wound the first skein last night, before reverting to sock-knitting. I was tired (see above) and did the elementary arithmetic wrongly in my head and wound up with four little balls where I wanted three. Not a fatal error. The Shibui yarn is wonderful; it glows. I plan to continue in this way, winding a skein per evening and then picking up the sock. When all four skeins are done, it will be time to swatch some openwork stitches.

Ketki was pleased with her Van Gogh socks, and they look good. Alexander seems to think that he could wear a pair on the same lines, so I’ll knit the Bedroom at Arles for him.