That demonically-possessed gold metallic yarn I told you about? It ran out, a couple of words before I’d finished the back cover of Mary’s book. I swear I could hear the stuff sniggering as I tried to eek out the last few centimetres of fibre. So I ordered more, and sat waiting and waiting for it to arrive. By the time this thing is done, Mary’s recovery will have progressed so far that she’ll have forgotten that she was ever ill. I am a well-meaning but inefficient friend. Fortunately, Mary is the forgiving type.
Just for the record, I’ve been doing an Oscar-worthy impression of the sort of well-balanced person who waits patiently for their yarn order to arrive. The type of person who wouldn’t dream of stalking the postie across the village as he makes his rounds, and who would never tap said postie on the shoulder to enquire politely whether he might, just conceivably, have forgotten a small package that’s addressed to my house.
This project – the book-blanket for my poorly friend – is nearly done. Embroidering words is much trickier than writing words or even knitting words, because when you’re forced to spend ten minutes staring at each one, you can end up seriously doubting your spelling. (Are you sure that’s how to spell ‘the’? Really sure? Or maybe it has another couple of h’s in the middle?) I sometimes have conversations with OCD-prone clients about how questioning and checking something for too long leads to less certainty, not more. Well at a more trivial level, the process applies to yarn, too.
But then I decided that if I did make a spelling mistake, I’d embroider a spellcheck-like wiggly red line underneath, which might at least make Mary smile when she saw it. Making Mary smile has to be a good thing right now.
But then at last, just when I least expected it, there was yarn! (Well, embroidery thread.)
Whilst I was waiting, I did some planning for my next major stranded colour-work project – all 100 000 stitches of it – and to say that I’m excited about the distant day when I will show you the finished thing is a bit of an understatement. I love working on a new idea. I love it when inspiration strikes. Occasionally, I’ll be looking around – at the natural world, mostly – and an idea will just explode in my brain. My mind is a fuzz of I wonder what would happen if I – delete as appropriate – knitted/crocheted/sung, a purple/silver/Wednesday-coloured, ode/cardigan/mystery, in the theme of heather/poverty/lunch. Even typing that sentence is giving me bonkers new ideas. Anyway, I’m working up the new design, and also I’m choosing the shades. Frankly, this project is going to need most of these at some point or other:-
(That’s Jamieson’s Spindrift, in case you’re wondering.)
When these projects cross the finish line, I promise that you’ll be the first to know.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m due to attend knit-night in a shepherd’s hut with some good friends. Yes, really!
Happy yarnery, my fine, fibrous friends.