The lack of knit-blogging has had a lot to do with the lack of actual knitting, since I finished the banana-fibre scarf in an excess of zeal (and Farscape), and then rested panting on my laurels for a while. Then the really bad 'flu hit and the glandular fever hit back. Then work got seriously crazy for about three weeks, leaving me too denuded of energy to actually lift the needles. Then the edited book came back from the proof-reader and I spent three weeks quarrelling with Oxford commas and the "which/that" controversy. Then there was an unfortunate, doomed and temporary love affair with mohair (not the kid mohair) which ended up in emotional tangles and broken hearts all round, or at the very least broken threads, and about which I really don't want to talk. Then I went away for a long weekend to a game farm, and started knitting again:
Things I Have Learned:
- Mohair is a bugger.
- Cotton, on the other hand, is possibly my one true love, at least for the moment. (That's a cotton washcloth, this one).
- Game farms are exceptionally beautiful spots to knit in, even in the freezing cold dawn on the balcony.
- Banana fibre scarves are adequately warm for game viewing, and rather snazzy.
- Now that I'm back into knitting mode, the latest infection is a perfectly unholy and random desire to knit lace. Probably with the kid mohair, which I confidently expect won't snarl like the other fuzzy stuff I've been wrestling.
- Knitting is highly contagious. Inadequate quarantine has resulted in my mother, possibly frustrated beyond belief by witnessing my fumbling efforts, rediscovering knitting after a fifteen-year hiatus. (Robynn, your fell influence is spreading. You may now gloat ;>).Apart from a mad outbreak of woolly hats for the game farm trip (mine's purple), she has spent the last few days knitting clothes for the felt teddy bear she made for my niece. I am utterly charmed.
Da Niece (now aged nearly 3, and moving into the Experimental Linguistics phase) informs us that his name is Bottop Bear.
