A secret weakness for McDonald's

Or rather, the knitting equivalent of a greasy and revolting Big Mac.

In the interests of hanging on to the semblance of honest reportage I aspire to in this blog, I have to confess.



I have a serious weakness for glitzy, bright and novel "fancy" yarns. With which to knit (generally) garter stitch scarves.

Hence my shame. I'm not even sure if I feel better for having got that off my chest. You see, I don't think I can stop.

Please don't despise me. No. Belay that. Do if you wish. I shall remain defiant and proud, just as I do about being an Archers listener.

(Ooh, it's the wedding this week!! They are trailing dramatic 'appenings, I do hope it isn't going to be a Rochester moment.)

Anyway, I found the darker and to me rather nicer yarn in Artfibers in San Francisco, and the paler in my LYS (which, did I say, is going to start running groups in the New Year. Watch this space.) The darker took longer to do, I think I was learning to grapple with 20mm needles, the hot pink one I knocked of yesterday. And be warned, I haven't finished yet, I have a lot of fancy stuff in my secret stash....

Meanwhile, the Jacob bag has not felted to my total satisfaction, so Will Not Do. So I have had a rush of blood to the head, and have something very quick and dirty on the hook. Might work. Also attempting to finally see off the Regia socks, so very nearly there, but not quite.

But despite all this indigestible stuff, I Have Ideas. Tenuous ones, anyway. Actually, lots and lots of them, not just for fibre stuff, for all sorts. I just need to be able to devote all day every day to doing it all. Hah.

Apropos of which, I had this hilarious conversation in the Optician's yesterday when I went to pick up my new reading glasses. The very nice receptionist, not too far from me in age, was talking about how she had been cleaning her FIL's house while he was away on holiday. Moving all the kitchen movables, and cleaning under things. Bottoming, as they say. Because men don't clean properly, they just wipe the bits they can see.


I said very, very little. After all, I only actually understood about one word in four.

Such a nice woman, for an alien. Or is that me?