This day is called the feast of Crispian.

Both my husband and the cat failed to re-set their watches, so my hopes of an extra hour's doze this morning were frustrated.

A knitting set-back yesterday. I am knitting both sides simultaneously of the front of the v-neck vest. That means that in every row there is a precarious moment when I have finished one side and not yet started the other. Last night I discovered that one side had one more stitch than the other. That's easily fudged, but I counted and found that the corollary was also true – one side had more rows.

I think, given a calm half hour, I could rip back to a point where both sides were at the same point of development. But interruptions are constant here and I may not achieve it. Going back to the point of the “v” wouldn't be an absolute disaster. Can I think of a system for bridging that mid-row gap more securely?

I have thot of an idea: to take my knitting around the corner to the local LYS, Kathy's Knits, during part of the mid-day time when our private carer is here. The problem might be that I'd be taking up space (she offers a sofa) and not buying much, day after day. Her stock is first rate, so buying would be a temptation, but I could deal with that. Partly by buying.

I think she's closed on Mondays, so I've got two days to think about this.

Someone has left a comment on an old post – that usually means junk, but not this time. The subject under consideration was provisional casting-on, and she asked what we meant by the “eensy-weensy spider” cast on. The answer would be just to Google “provisional cast on”. I suppose I should think of a more adequate answer and go put it with the question.

I read a bit of the relevant blog. It was three years ago, I think, when our dining room was being re-constituted after the flood. I was surprised at how peppy both I and my husband seemed, me fretting about getting the tatties in (=planting potatoes in my vegetable garden in Strathardle). Decline has been swift.

Non-knit

If we all hate Christmas so, why do we put up with it? Partly, in the northern hemisphere, I feel it's the price we have to pay to get out light back. What happens in the antipodes? Cat?