Whine, whinge, bitch, moan

Bugrit, grumble, bugrit.

Got the lurgy, didn't I. Not, I think from the DSM, but from Nanny Ogg, not that it matters. I take back all the actual or implied rude things I said about him, this thing makes you feel......low. Deep in a hole, bumbling black moth low, which is about as bad as it can get (guess what, folks, it's hyperbole time again). I don't feel bad enough to fester in bed, but can't settle to doing anything, so it is a little of this, a little of that, attention span of a gnat, very unsatisfying.

Alcohol might help (perks up momentarily. Before medical/media-induced guilt kicks in.)

Bugrit. (Can't you tell I am reading Terry Pratchett at the moment?)

And blogs. And I am delighted to find that there are increasing numbers of UK-based knitting blogs out there, and some of them spin, too. The writers, I mean OF COURSE.

Before succumbing to the ague, I went on a half-day beading class with a friend. H'mm. Too many beading teachers IMNSHO use the method of presenting you with a wonderful range of items they have made, you choose which one you want to do and go from there. This has obvious disadvantages if not everyone does the same thing. Fortunately, we all did on Friday, in part because I decided to hang back and see what everyone else was doing and then deciding that I might as well join in. So, I spent a pleasant afternoon, but didn't learn anything. This person didn't do hand-outs, either. But did give us some very nice sponge cake with decent icing on it.

The top bit on the photo is Friday's effort, the lower a simple spiral I just made off my own bat, both intended to hang pendants from, but now I see them I'm not so sure. Also, now I see the photo on Flickr, my zooming and cropping has made things a bit fuzzy. Or, that could be my lurgy-infested vision, I suppose. Still, general idea, eh?



I did get an email just now to say that if it runs (TBC) I will have a place on the bead crochet class I applied for. Poor tutor. I can't understand why I can make a bag with beads crocheted around it, but can't scale that down to a lovely supple tube. After many and many an attempt seule, I have found a class - will we survive it, I ask myself.

I have some ideas floating around in the sloshy soup of my mind. A skein of cashmere is asking to become a neck shawl, and in my blog-cruising I found a definitely cute new scarf, to which I will give due attribution later. I am tempted to start that as an easy and fun thing to tempt my flagging whatever, but I don't like having too many projects on the go. I always feel I should be finishing other stuff first. Still, the log cabin* knitted stage is nearly done, so....we shall see. I can feel temptation growing stronger by the minute. Perhaps I could strike some sort of deal with myself and do little new things as long as I do X rows of the crochet jacket per day.

Dear......(Terry Pratchett has a new goddess, Annoia,not sure if I have spelt that right, just say it aloud, deity of cutlery causing a drawer to jam or words to that effect and therefore not appropriate here) whoever. I am rambling, and not even with a fever for excuse. Before I go...

*Am reminded by this of the fact that I just got the new Knitting Experience, Book 111, Colour. I love it. I have liked the previous two very much and this is even better, I think. For those of us who do not consider ourselves (or are not considered) proper knitters, of course.

But I am working on that.

Disappears, snivelling and sneezing, and aren't you pleased.