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.

Sock

I don't want to appear malicious
Or in any way repetitious
But
She was knitting on a tram
And dropped some stitches off
Consequently I find I am
Still a foot without a toe
Oh, woe

Not posting, knitting

June flashed by with a click, clack of needles.
There was no time to post.
Projects finished - one feather and fan shoulder shawl in a beautiful superwash sock yarn by Lang. Knitted in two weeks - nothing like a deadline to focus the mind.
The yarn, Jawoll Magic, is dyed so it drifts from one colour to another, which has the effect of creating beautiful, but gentle, striping throughout. It has a soft feel to it and slips easily through the fingers.
I knitted it on 4.50mm needles and one skein was enough to cover the shoulders.
I forgot to take a picture before I gave it away to my mother for her 90th birthday, so I'll have to make another, won't I?

Sock now has a heel, but I'm hearing no gush of gratitude
'Oh, woe
I've got part of a foot
But still missing a toe'

Projects begun - the first of the patterns for a book I started in 2007. A practice piece will be revealed soon...

Sock's Lament

recidivist n. one who relapses [into crime]

(tune) What about me?

Well I see you’ve bought some boucle back with needles from the yarn shop
While I’ve been waiting here, living with my fear
Of my stitches being ripped out to the top
Oh I hate to nag, but you’ve hit a snag
In the Year to Finish Off

[Chorus]
What about me, it isn’t fair
Socks need a heel, to walk somewhere
Can’t you see, please come and sit
Grab the needles and just knit

And I’m lying on the table and I'm worried I'm about to drop

I’m staring down the cats, they’d love to come and play

And once they do you know they’ll never stop
Once I hit the ground, so much wool around
You’d have to start it all again

[Chorus]
What about me, it isn’t fair
I'm half of one, you need a pair
Can’t you see, just how I feel
Please come and turn my blasted heel

[Bridge]
So take a step back and see abandoned projects
In lots of bags but they cry out that
Their yarns are still good
So listen, as they whisper
What about me

Still waiting on the table, I'm waiting for a heel that’s turned
Nothing’s changed, no stitches rearranged
Feeling like a lover who’s been spurned
With a bit of luck, you will pick me up
Then to the world I'll say

[Chorus]
Will you look at me, thought she didn’t care
I’m a hand knit sock, I'm a joy to wear
Slip me on, I’ll massage your feet
Just one more I’ll be complete

What about it?

So much for that

'So much for that,' said Sock. 'Another week nearly gone and I'm still staring down the Moggies. I'm still a half calf not yet down to the ankle. I wouldn't mind, but it's been this way since February. And, unless you find an amputee, I need a twin.'

'C'mon,' says Flourish. I could almost see it point its fingers to its forehead. Thankfully it does not have one. I knew I shouldn't have worked on it while I was thinking about tennis. 'C'mon. Only two more rows to go.'

Yeah, Flourish, but those rows are 240 stitches each. And you've had a good run for a veggie project. You're supposed to be a support act you know, not the diva.

'Ugh! No need for clipped language, Flourish. And you may look a bit Victorian Gothic, but you don't know Gothic like I do,' says Come Inside. 'Come on , come inside. You know you want to. I've hooked you with my ghostly opening chapters and I know that you want to know more.'

'Forget them! Where's our dinner and when are you going to get another job?' the Moggies demand. 'We need to keep eating if you want to get any sleep, you know.'