I finished a thing!
It’s the Ardelise cardigan by Vanessa Smith, and the yarn is Cascade 220 Sport, in Dark Plum. I wanted a cardigan that goes with everything, and dark purple goes with a lot of colours – or at least it goes with the sort of shades that I wear.
I’ve strategically photographed it to mask all the little mistakes and inconsistencies, and my great grandmother’s brooch isn’t just there to look pretty (though it does a fine job of that).
All the little faults happened because I knitted when I was ill, and distracted, and when I was too tired to bother picking back to correct mistakes.
The twinnage often bring home colourings that they’ve half-completed at school, and the other day, one of them turned up with one bearing the legend, “We learn from failure, not from success” (a Bram Stoker quote, apparently – maybe he wrote a really rubbish first draft of Dracula in which the vampire feasts on freshly squeezed orange juice instead of blood). Hang on, let me see if I can find the colouring and snap a photo… Yes! Here it is:-
The point is, if that’s true then after this cardigan, I ought to be the most learned knitter in the world. Ha, I wish. But mostly what I’ve learned is that I will primarily be wearing this cardigan at home where nobody much cares about inconsistent gauge.
Ardelise is a most excellent pattern, by the way. The faults are all mine.
Anyway, I thought of you yesterday, Dear Blog. That’s not to say that I don’t think about you the rest of the time, but this was a very specific thought along the lines of, “Here’s something that only The Blog will understand”. Picture the scenario: I’d just spent two days unpacking planks of wood, reading instructions, tightening screws, and hammering nails, assembling the new furniture for the twinnage’s bedroom. It was going OK. So far, I’d put together a wardrobe, a set of bunk beds, a desk, two desk chairs, and a chest of drawers. I had actual blisters on the palm of one hand from the screwdriver, but you don’t need your palms much in knitting, so I didn’t really care.
All that remained to be tackled was one very large chest of drawers. (Bookshelves are coming later.) I was a little bored and a little tired… which is probably how I carelessly knocked some sharp-edged wood that was leaning against the wall. It fell on the fingers of my left hand. Ouch. ←That may not have been the exact word that I uttered at the time. Not sure what I learned from that failure, Mr Stoker. Anyway, a normal person would have thought, “Oh no! What if it’s broken and I can’t drive the car / teach my children to play the harp / conduct ground-breaking medical research / wash the dishes / point at people whilst facilitating negotiations aimed at establishing world peace?!” And I’m ashamed to say that precisely none of those things went through my head. None at all. No, Dear Blog: what went through my head – and I know that you at least will understand this, even if my own family doesn’t – was, “OH NO, WHAT IF IT’S BROKEN AND I CAN’T KNIT OR CROCHET?!”
A truly terrifying possibility, I’m sure you’ll understand. I know from comments on past blog posts that some of you have endured knit-preventing injuries, and frankly, I don’t know how you came away from the experience with your sanity intact. I take my (hand-knitted) hat off to you.
Fortunately, the fingers seem to be OKish, just very sore, and the twinnage love their new bedroom. It seemed important to immediately conduct extensive testing to establish that I can still knit. Really, really, extensive testing…
But it got me thinking. When I’m appointed Boss Of The Entire World (an event that is surely as imminent as it is inevitable), I will rearrange the hospital system. There will be EMERGENCY WARDS FOR PEOPLE WHOSE ABILITY TO KNIT IS AT TERRIBLE RISK, and as an afterthought, there will be wards for everything else. OK?