Right then, let’s be upbeat and positive and model appropriate adult behaviour in the face of adversity. I shall start with a quick backtrack to May which is when the train of my life started to jump the rails. I was knitting a white baby jacket back then, it finished up really quickly and was immediately out of the house so these are all the photos you are getting because it’s probably been outgrown by now (as always, click on the little photo to see the bigger one). This is DROPS 17-14, it’s a free pattern and I liked it well enough to be able to say that I might knit it again, possibly even with the matching bonnet and bootees. It is supposed to have a single row of the contrast colour on the inside facing and I’m sure that would be a lovely touch but in my view it wasn’t worth sewing in the extra two ends on each facing so I took the decision to omit that.
I would like to say that I took the decision to replace the buttonholes with snaps but that’s not what happened. I knitted the front facings to the accompaniment of some good evening tv and I’d cast off before I realised that while my hands had been on full autopilot I’d forgotten to make the buttonholes. As it was a facing there should have been two sets of buttonholes, one set before the turning row and a matching set on the underneath of the facing so I would have needed to have ripped back almost to the start to correct it. I briefly considered reknitting it but thought it was better to press on and get it finished. I was glad that I did, the snaps were easy to fasten and it meant that I could choose buttons based only on appearance rather than also having to make sure that they matched the size of the buttonholes.
This was my holiday knitting, it should have grown up to be mittens and a matching hat but I was not altogether sold on it from the outset. I couldn’t tell you why really, between the middle of July and now I haven’t touched it and that’s usually a sign that my inner knitter thinks that there’s something wrong. On this particular occasion she’s not giving me any clues as to what that might be. The last thing I did was to pull back four rounds because I misread the chart and I must have decided at that point that it was worth keeping because I put it back onto the needles. I’ve picked it up this week and I just don’t want to be bothered with finishing this mitten, never mind starting a second one. What I need now are things that bring me joy and this was not cutting it so it’s now back in the yarn bag.
When all else fails, there is always sock knitting to fall back on. The pink leftovers on the left are from the socks that I knitted for my aunt. They are the same size as each other but might not be the same size as her feet because I was not exactly thinking about what I was doing at the time. They got me through a difficult week and have left the house so I don’t have to see them again and remember how bad I felt when I was knitting them. I will dye the remnants navy so that they become unrecognisable, it’s either that or throw them in the bin. The ball in the middle started off as another pair of socks but after the rib of the first one my inner knitter managed to communicate her misgivings and I weighed the ball. It will make a pair of socks if I add stripes so that’s on hold while I think about delving into the bag of leftover sock yarn. So far there’s nothing wrong with the third pair of socks other than a run of knots in the second ball of sock yarn. I hate knots in self patterning yarn because unless you are prepared to lose a pattern repeat they won’t match. These are for me and so they will match, I’m hoping that there will be enough yarn in the smaller ball to reach the toe but if there isn’t then the scrap bag will be coming into play for a pair of contrast toes.
What else has happened? The child finished his GCSEs without major incident, the results were in line with what he was predicted and he took up his college place three weeks ago. For those of us who are oldies he’s now in the lower sixth or Y12 as it is these days. I’m back to doing a school run of sorts in that I drop him at the bus stop in the mornings and collect him in the afternoon which is not as wonderful as waving him off to catch the school bus that passes the window because it means that I have to be fully dressed with shoes on by 7.20. On the positive side this means that my mornings have the potential to be much more productive than they have been for the last five years.
I’ve been back through the last eight years of the blog which ran to twenty six pages of post titles. I can’t now be tripped up by an unexpected dog photo because I’ve been and looked at all of them. Originally I thought that eight years was no time at all, a life cut short but now I see it differently. We’ve covered a lot of ground in eight years as can be seen by the fact that the primary school student is now starting his A levels and is much, much taller than me. We’ve done so much as a family and Pebble did it all with us. He had a rich and full life well lived and that is all that any of us can hope for.