In my own defence - a reply to Sock

I can appreciate that it is no fun being jammed in my carry bag - all those redundant supermarket dockets, pen tops with no pens, dog-eared copies of The Big Issue, clean tissues just-in-case and the odd chocolate wrapper. But what happened was this-

I sat happily on the tram knitting. All good, no one sat next to me - something about the fear of double pointed needles. There's probably a fancy phobia with a Latin name for that - the best bet would be to look on airline websites to give it a name.

When I reached the city I had to put Sock In Progress in my bag. When one of the double-pointed needles jabbed me in the leg through the bag on a pedestrian crossing, I attempted to rearrange the configuration of needles. At this point, some stitches went freeform - they slipped cheerfully off one needle. On the odd occasions when I opened the bag, I thought I could hear some whooping noises.

I tried to put it out of my mind while I was shopping and to avoid disturbing the stitches so that I could pick them up later.

I tried to coerce them back on to the needle on the train ride home. Some of them are a bit twisted - having tasted freedom they don't want to go back on the needle and the ones that were already on the needle tightened up.

I don't know quite how to break this to Sock, but, assuming I finish both socks, they are destined for a someone's foot.

In this case, the journey seems a whole lot better than the destination.