The other morning, I picked up my knitting (nothing unusual in that), muttered some words that aren’t repeatable here (not as rare as it should be), and frogged FOURTEEN THOUSAND stitches of stranded colourwork. (Youch.)
I tried to film the experience in a speeded-up, time-lapsy, sort of way, but technology was against me. So then I went off to do my tax return instead.
Could the day have got any more fun-filled? Well yes, actually, it probably could have done. But it didn’t.
I don’t know whether you’re familiar with the British tax system – now there’s a sentence to set pulses racing – but man, they don’t exactly make the process easy. The layers of security you need to get through just to prove it’s really you who’s trying to pay your own tax make me wonder whether there’s an epidemic of cybercriminals hacking into people’s accounts to pay their tax for them. Because if that’s a genuine danger, then PLEASE DO FEEL FREE TO GO RIGHT AHEAD. (I’d tell you my username and password, if only I could remember them. So that was a bit more time wasted, clicking the YES-I-REALLY-AM-TOO-STUPID-TO-KNOW-MY-OWN-IDENTITY button.)
I seem to recall that this is a knitting/crochet blog, so let’s get back to the yarnery. Yes, I ripped out 14 000 stitches of my underwater scene, right back to where the needle is inserted in this picture:-
It was a necessary pain. I’d almost reached the surface of the water and, well, the colour combinations didn’t work. At all. Yes they’d passed the photograph-in-black-and-white-to-check-that-one-shade-is-darker test, but, well, no. I’m endlessly fascinated by the ways in which colours (mis)behave when thrown together, and a green that had looked vibrant on its own turned into a murky sludge against its background.
So I took a deep breath, and frogged. And then, I went back to knitting:-
It was the right decision.
And then, wonder of wonders, the tax fairy showed up! Having noticed the tax-related woe-is-me post that I put on Facebook, a relative pointed out that since she’d been lecturing on tax at an American university for the past 20 years, it might be “fun” (!) to hop over the Atlantic and learn about the British equivalent. Not gonna lie: I genuinely wondered whether I could book her a transatlantic flight in time. (No, I couldn’t, but it was a lovely idea. Maybe next year. I reckon I’d have to knit her something pretty special as a ‘thank you’.)
But that’s quite enough tax for one blog post. There’s knitting to be finished…