It is true that I have been – just once or twice mind you – in the past, informed that I am
just a wee bit totally obsessive when it comes to things of a fibre or textile nature.
Whereas, I have always strenuously denied that this was the case,today I am prepared to concede that there might be a hint … the merest whiff … of truth to those allegations.
Exhibit A – Big box o’ dog fluff [ from this guy ]
Exhibit B – the yarn spun from the box o’ fluff
[ augmented by alpaca and a bit of baaaaa ]
Exhibit C – would be the shawl the I started knitting from my Hair Of The Dog yarn – with a drip in my hand – post surgery. Perfectly normal behaviour in my view. Not the least bit
mad weird insane OCD odd.
Said shawl has been on hiatus since I ran out of yarn in hospital, until this week, when I got back to spinning, the result of which was duly skeined, soaked, whacked into submission, dried, wound into a ball
and finally added onto what had been done earlier
This is a rustic looking yarn with flecks and nupps of brown polwarth, blue grey alpaca and white Samoyed… not something suited to fine lace. The shawl that has evolved [ pattern? what pattern ? ] has alternating bands of garter and stocking stitch, garter borders and rows of eyelets whenever I jolly well feel like it.
So that’s what I’ve been doing the last few days when not engaged in weeding, goat wrangling and the knitting of a ‘something that was not a shawl and which I will tell you about later’
Brain mostly in neutral, which accounts for the inevitable ” Damnation. I forgot to put in the yarn overs on that last row buggerit”
Still, all going well until I got to the cast-off [ bind off for my trans-pacific friends ] and realised that I wasn’t going to make it.
Maybe if I knit faster, it’ll go further …
**mutter mutter mutter whinge whine twenty bloody stitches grizzle **
but did I throw it in the corner to rot ? [ as may have been my first inclination ]
I did not
Did I haul out Ms Charlotte Sheridan and press her into service ?
Well, actually, no
I did not:
Nadie is not the only woman in this house who owns a drop spindle or three [ mind you I did only make a metre or so of yarn ]
and now all I have to do is find the right sewing needle, darn in the ends, give it a warm bath and a good blocking [ a bit like being stretched on the rack would be if it was with woolly items instead of medieval victims of torture ]