The hat is finished, without ever achieving a place in the sidebar.  I'll miss it. I'll take a picture tomorrow in the light. It was gratifying at the end to throw away all the odds and ends -- nothing left to augment the stash. Gratifying, too, to have dispatched an impulse buy so briskly. And to have another FO.

Now to finish off some socks. The current Kaffe Fassett pair is not quite as near the 2nd heel flap as I remembered; another dozen or so rounds to go.

I thought the programme about Fair Isle was very good indeed, with another to come next Monday. Not much about knitting, although it was mentioned. A good sense of the island community. I was surprised to hear that cruise ships manage to land there.

 I've seen Fair Isle, out of the airplane window. I booked my seat on the left-hand side on purpose. It was a wonderful moment. But not quite as wonderful as standing on the northernmost point of Unst, a couple of days later, and seeing the lighthouse at Muckle Flugga.

The new Knitting magazine tells me that Carol Feller has published the book about gradient yarns which she promised us during her class on the subject at the EYF earlier this year. And Marianne Isager's book of designs based on manhole covers is one I'd like to look through in a bookshop, if I had access to a bookshop. But I fear neither would make the cut when it comes to final-home, so it would probably be wiser not to buy them now. 

I'll be ordering Kate Davies' book about Shetland Oo, however, any moment now. I'll go for the paperback.

Wandering through the Promotions folder in my mailbox, I found an ad from the Yarn Collective pointing me to some very nice-looking lace weight from Melanie Berg.  I think her "Morning Rain" might be the very shade I'm looking for.

The trouble about knitting a striped shawl for the new baby, as several have interestingly suggested, is that it sends me back to the Hansel hap pattern. I love it. It was a joy to knit. I hope to knit it again (and again).  But just now, so soon after knitting it for Emmett, I feel I want to strike out into pastures (relatively) new for my own great-grandchild.

Many thanks for all your help about fudge. I will look up Hugh F-W, for a British slant on the question. It occurs to me that Alexander -- a serious cook, as I have mentioned before -- probably has a thermometer which will tell them when the mixture has reached 238 degrees Fahrenheit which = the soft ball stage, according to Mrs Rombauer. Then you cool it to 110, she stays, and start beating.