It’s difficult to blog when the knitting is trundling along without any major catastrophes. There’s only so much anecdotal mileage to be had from, “I’m knitting another colour combination of a skirt for the book and yeah, it seems to be going OK so far.” Here it is, in case you’re curious. It looks a lot less terrifyingly yellow in reality:-
Please don’t get me wrong. I don’t sit here hoping that my knitting will spontaneously combust just so that I can write about the experience. But if my knitting did – heaven forbid – burst into flames, then my second thought on the matter, immediately after I’d got off the phone to the fire brigade, would be, “Well at least I’ll get a blog post out of this.” I can’t help it; it’s just how your mind works when you’ve been blogging for seven years. That’s probably not a healthy thing, but it’s undeniably a thing.
So here, with no amusing sidenotes at all, is another skirt-to-be, worked in Rowan Felted Tweed. I’ll be sure to let you know if it catches fire or if I notice that I accidentally knitted sleeves into its waistband.
Meanwhile enter stage left the twinnage, aka two nine-year-old boys with far too much time on their hands. One of them became a keen baker during lockdown (I’ve had to increase my running mileage to compensate) and now he and his brother have opened a cafe in our kitchen. There is a yarny component to this tale, I promise.
They decided there was a need for staff uniforms, so I was roped in to help. I love the fact that a little yarnery enables us to make our children’s wishes come true. Well, perhaps not the children’s real wishes which involve unlimited screen time and chocolate, but their second-level wishes, at least. I began to crochet, and then I pinned and sewed:-
The twinnage both declared themselves satisfied with the results.
Given the exorbitant prices that the twinnage charge in their cafe, I’m glad my minimise-covid-anxiety plan involved growing ALL THE VEGETABLES in our little garden.
I can avoid being fleeced in my own kitchen by wandering outside to graze on various beans and tomatoes and plums and lettuce and a couple of dozen other crops, all whilst feeding mealworms to my friend Robyn-the-robin.
It feels like a strange time, now we’ve moved from proper-lockdown to semi-maybe-slightly-lockdown, where lots of things are officially permitted but are probably still not wise. I hope you’re surviving the experience?
We’re taking a cautious approach here at Twisted Towers, but we realize we’re fortunate to have the countryside on our doorstep. I’m running plenty, although my wonky ankle would prefer that I didn’t.
We’ll get through this, though, won’t we? One day soonish, the craziness of 2020 will be in the past, and most of us will still be here, and we’ll look back on these days with a sigh and an eye-roll.
In the meantime, please look after yourselves, my fine fibrous friends.