Congratulations, It’s a Hat-trick

I have no idea why the phrase hat-trick came to mean three of something. If I can be bothered I’ll look it up – or perhaps you, dear reader, could tell me if you know. Be that as it may I am now approaching a hat hat-trick situation. I downloaded a pattern to make a hat for Maisie, aged 14 months. I thought the toddler size would work OK because even if it’s too big now, she’ll soon grow into it, so I bought the wool and off I went. Hats don’t take very long to knit but unfortunately even though like a good girl I’d done a tension square * this one came out so small that it was only just big enough for a newborn. OK, let’s try again, I thought – and this time I picked larger needles. After a few rows I could see the width was OK but it came out far too short. So I got Holly to measure Maisie’s head from top to eyebrow and yep, it was far too short. This is a really crappy pattern, I fumed, and prepared to do a third hat. But as I checked the pattern once again I realised I’d been following the dimensions for inches instead of centimetres. Argh!

* sounds like one of those bubble-wrap things to reduce tension but is in fact a trial square knitted to check the tension of one’s stitches

I wish we’d make our minds up about this. As Beetleypete has pointed out, we’re neither one thing nor the other in this country. We have metres and centimetres but the roads are all in miles; we weigh ourselves in stones but food is sold by the kilo and we buy milk in litres but beer in pints. I guess with Brexit we might expect things to go back to the insane but poetic old systems, but I bet they won’t.

I can’t bear to think about Brexit right now. It’s such a nightmare and it’s getting closer every day…


Kirk out

There is a tide in the affairs of laptops…

and the tide of this laptop has gone out – it has taken to going into a corner and having a sulk if you accidentally tap it in one particular place, whereupon you have to perform that complicated set of manoeuvres known to all electronic technicians as ‘turning it off and on again’.

As I write, the sky has turned from black to grey and it is now almost light.  We have ‘his’n’hers’ laptops this morning and Mark is busily tapping away on his.  Oh!  That reminds me – Holly produced an impressive-looking flower yesterday.  She is studying Art and Design, including graphics, and seems to be doing well at it.  In English she is doing a poem by Christina Rosetti – not one I know – and I was telling her that Rosetti had written the Christmas carol, ‘In the Bleak Mid-winter.’  She then began to sing it, to the tune of ‘Every Sperm is Sacred’…

(you have to listen to the chorus).  Took us a while to place the tune, but when we did… laugh!  Did we laugh?

Er, yes we did.

Here’s Holly’s picture:!/photo.php?fbid=10150388496034282&set=a.10150388496029282.407378.708199281&type=1&theater

Blimey!  That’s a long link.  Which reminds me… I’ve sent off for a knitting pattern.  Now, you wouldn’t think it would be a complicated thing to find a black roll-neck sweater these days, but apparently it is asking the impossible.  You can have scoop-neck sweaters or round-neck sweaters or long sweaters that are almost dresses, with or without pockets or embroidery or even – inexplicably – with short sleeves, but the one thing you can’t have is a polo neck.  The nearest thing is that floppy neck thing which goes down to your tits and won’t fit under a jacket and I can’t abide them.  So… I had a look on-line for a pattern, found one straight away, and then looked at wool.  Bloody hell!  Did you know the cheapest 50 gm ball costs £3?  Which means my sweater would cost £50 – and that’s before I even start to knit it.

Aha!  But in my bag I have lots of chunky blue wool.  So what’s to prevent me knitting a blue sweater and then dyeing it?

So that’s the plan, and I await the pattern with bated breath.

Mark was astonished to find patterns on-line for wedding dresses.  ‘I didn’t know you could make your own wedding dress!’ he exclaimed.

‘Duh,’ I replied.

And that’s it.  Another story rejected yesterday – I can’t even remember which one I sent them but it’s ‘not what they’re looking for at the moment.’  Daniel is not here, having slept over at Plaxy’s (he got the train by himself for the first time), and today I shall be mostly working on a couple of stories for the Fish competition.

Kirk out