Woe, ’tis a dark day, here at the ‘Yarn. A heinous crime has been committed. I’ve been working on the crochet house-bag (doing the boring stuff; weaving in dozens of ends – an ideal job for when you’ve got a stinking head-cold.) I have to say, it’s going extremely well and I’m rather excited about the finished product. It’s gone from this:-
…to a proper 3-d house-bag with shoulder strap, but I’m hanging back from showing you until I can ta-da it properly. Thank you to commenters who endorsed my idea of working up a knitted version too. Patterns to follow.
Anyways, back to the crime scene.
Having sewn/crocheted the bag components, I decided to add a couple of extra rows of tiles to the roof before attaching it. But look!
Somebody, somebody, has been a-meddling in my project bag and has cut my yarn. Horrors! But who could it be?
The suspect list is short. I know I’m not guilty. And the Stoic Spouse is a careful sort, not given to random acts of fibrous sabotage. So that leaves the Toddler Twinnage. They’ve been paying an unhealthy degree of attention to my yarn snippers lately, and I bet it was them. But how on earth to determine which one? Interrogation has failed. And there’s no point in taking DNA samples from the crime scene. That’s the problem with identical twins.
True story: many moons ago, there was a heist at a jewellery shop. Detectives managed to get a decent sample of DNA from the crime scene which you might quite reasonably assume would lead to an arrest. But the problem was that the DNA linked back to a pair of identical twins… and nobody could establish which one of them had committed the crime. Being not stupid (the blighters), neither of the twins held up a hand to say, ‘Yeah it was me. How could you possibly accuse such a decent and law-abiding citizen as my brother of such a crime?’ And so nobody was ever convicted.
Do you see what I’m up against?
So I have no idea who cut my yarn. I effected a messy Russian join, thus ending up with a thick and lumpy patch of yarn with which to add more roof tiles to the house-bag. But I have a strong suspicion that the culprit is blonde, less than three feet tall, and obsessively pre-occupied with dinosaurs. Any ideas?