When Life Gives You Lemons, Plaster Them All Over The Internet

I’ve said this before, but the thing about being a blogger is that when a bad thing happens, most of my response comprises “Oh no! Oh woe is me! A bad thing has happened! Whatever shall I do to mitigate the badness of the thing?” But a small yet undeniable portion of my brain thinks, “Ah-ha! BLOG FODDER. I can make a great anecdote out of this.” (Exhibit A: I had breast cancer back in 2020. And I laughed about the twists and turns of cancer treatment on here. Thank you to those of you who were here then to join in with the LOLs. Cancer is much less threatening if you laugh in its ugly face.)

BUT.

This approach only applies to stuff that happens to me. Bad things that happen to others are not remotely amusing… except maybe for the time when unbeknownst to us, the cellar flooded, and the Stoic Spouse went down there without bothering to switch the light on first, and I heard his footsteps: step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, step, SPLASH, AAAAAAAAAARGH! Gotta admit, that was quite funny. Don’t worry, he’s fine. And he won’t make that mistake again.

So with such rare exceptions, other people’s misfortune is not hilarious. Years ago I attended a talk by a properly funny newspaper columnist (I think it was Tim Dowling, but my perimeno brain decided to dump 85% of its contents into the nearest river some time ago, so who knows.) IS IT OK TO WRITE PUBLICALLY ABOUT YOUR FAMILY, the columnist was asked, and his response has stayed with me ever since, unlike the aforementioned 85%. Yes, he said, write about them as much as you like, as long as YOU are the one who comes off looking like a stupid plonker from whatever anecdote you’re recounting. I bear that in mind often as I wield this mighty Bic biro of mine over this scruffy notebook.

So as you’ll understand if you’ve been reading here, 2025 hasn’t been great at Twisted Towers (nor in the wider world of course). Twin Two’s elbow is nearly healed. But Twin One has had surgery from which he’s only just recovering. And unfortunately his test results confirmed that he has cancer. The prognosis is probably good but we’ll know more shortly. He may also have another condition which caused the medical emergency on New Year’s Eve that set this whole crazy train in motion. I can’t say more because he’s a private sort of chap, who doesn’t even realize that the best thing to do when life is tough is to plaster the lurid details all over the internet for complete strangers to read. He probably doesn’t even want me to reveal to you that his real name is Hieronymus Algernon Lancelot Entwistle III. (Oops!)

Life is going to be rocky for a while, both for him and for his twin brother Melvin-Maurice Atticus Wilberforce The Seventh. But we’re ready for this. And we’re fortunate to live near Oxford, with its excellent hospitals. This stupid little cancer won’t know what’s hit it. You’ll probably be subject to a fair few very-badly-lit photos of me knitting as I sit at his bedside once treatment begins. Honestly, won’t hospital managers think of the poor bloggers and at least install ring-lights beside each bed? Priorities, people! (Not that I’ve ever used a ring-light in my entire life, but still. It’s the principle.)

Whilst all this has been going on, I’ve been knitting, but you’d probably guessed that already. I’m making a cowl that I designed because I suddenly needed a suitable work-in-progress. Suitable for what? Well a kind reader (you know who you are) got in touch to tell me about a forthcoming TV programme that’s basically Bake-Off for knitters. The producers were still looking for participants so I put in an application one night, because I do like to do something ridiculous from time to time. There were multiple stages of the application process and I got through all of them, ending up at a selection day in London: my goodness that was intense. Reader, I didn’t make the final cut. Oh well: I would have had to withdraw anyway, because Twin One’s cancer treatment will start around the same time as filming is scheduled.

So I’m left with a cowl in progress. The motif is an angler fish, one of those deep-sea oddities with a torch protruding from its face. (I’d love to have one of those grafted to my forehead: it would make running after dark so much easier. Yes I know that head torches are a thing, but I’ve never had one that worked well or lasted long.) I’m knitting this cowl in quite a few shades of Rowan Felted Tweed, and it’ll doubtless be ready to wear just as the weather turns hot. And because I’m not happy with the definition of the fishes, I’m embroidering around them using some extremely annoying gold yarn. You have no idea of the deep-seated loathing I have developed for this yarn. But the cowl is almost finished. I’m not particularly planning to publish the pattern, but I do have ideas for some cool patterns to come, which is a good thing because I suspect I’m facing a lot of bedside knitting time.