The Stylecraft Blog Tour seems to have got off to a decent start, with plenty of colourful patterns and daily chances to win a whole hairy heap of yarn. For those who asked a few posts ago, may I just say YES, the competition is indeed open worldwide. Hurrah! Today, it’s the turn of Crafternoon Treats.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) it’s the turn of this very blog, so there’ll be another free pattern and another chance to win a limited edition pack of yarn right here. So set your alarm clock for not-especially-early, lay out your best knitting needles, pull on your luckiest socks, and get ready to download the free pattern and enter the competition. Best o’luck, m’hearties!
Meanwhile, back to the business of Monday, and I hope you’ll be kind enough to indulge me in something that’s not knitting/crochet-related, other than that it keeps me away from knitting and crochet.
Here’s the thing: the problem with saying stuff publically online is that you can never unsay it. The internet doesn’t forget. Ever. Not even if you offer to bribe it with home-baked cookies and remind it that you possess incriminating photo-evidence of it clinging to a chimney on the town hall roof whilst drunkenly singing ‘I Will Survive’ at 3am on its birthday. (Yes internet, I do still have those pictures.)
So. When I said, ‘I don’t like running’, I said it in good faith, albeit with extra disgruntlement borne of how lardy I was feeling after all that IVF shenanigans. And, whilst I haven’t changed that much, I have to confess… it’s been getting easier. Weirdly easier. And I can keep going. Like a machine. Even uphill. In the rain.
(WHAT?! Did you think I was about to confess something properly, excitingly shameful? Nah, I’m not telling you about that: it’s between me and my well-remunerated legal team, and that’s the way it’s staying for as long as I can continue selling off the family silver in order to afford their fees.)
I think the key difference with the running this time round is that I’m going almost every day unless I’m at work, and so my poor idle limbs have been forced to accept their fate. This is different from times past when my muscles just had to give a little twinge for me to say ‘OK chaps, best not overdo it: let’s go home and lie on the sofa for a month.’ But not any more.
I tried that pursued-by-zombies app that one of you recommended in the comments section weeks ago (thank you), but it wouldn’t work through my headphones, so I faced the surreal embarrassment of running past Colin The Postman whilst a voice from near my left hip yelled out YOU HAVE PICKED UP UNDERPANTS! Colin looked perplexed. So I gave that up. Now I just run, urged on only by the knowledge that the faster I run, the sooner I can stop running and start knitting.
Don’t worry, this isn’t about to morph into a running blog. Not even slightly. I guarantee never to mention it unless it’s to share tales of my humiliation and incompetence. And no lycra-clad selfies will ever be forced on you because (i) I don’t wear lycra, and (ii) you’re decent folks who don’t deserve that kind of abuse.
The Twisted Yarn: definitely NOT sponsored by Nike.
See you tomorrow, folks. 🙂