A Yarn

I have occasionally mentioned that I’m not an entirely solitary knitter. In fact, I have a craft club, and an awesome one at that. They haven’t even kicked me out for changing jobs.

A couple of weeks ago (the Friday before Wednesday the 23rd, to be precise) I met up with a co-crafter for a few too many drinks and he reminded me that another of our craft buddies was going on maternity leave, and the following Wednesday would be her last craft club.

I had always planned to knit her something for the baby – in fact, I knew exactly what I wanted to knit – but as of that Friday night, it was just a collar stuffed under the sofa somewhere. But I’m not afraid of a challenge, and I secretly think I knit faster than I actually do, so undaunted by words like “3ply”, “lace” and “heirloom knitting”, I decided to plough headfirst into Lucille by Courtney Kelley, and knit like a woman possessed.

By the end of Friday night, I managed somehow to finish the yoke, which is all the more surprising considering how drunk I was. Saturday, I think I had split the arm holes. By Sunday, I was here:

So not bad progress – I was just about on track. But on Monday …

Well, that’s where things got a bit messy at work. I had to work late every night that week and in the end I missed craft club all together because my brain was so frazzled I thought it was cancelled and just didn’t show up. I’m not proud.

But there’s a happy ending to this story. Things calmed down at the end of the week, and by the Friday, I was here: (not sure why I decided to just stick a sleeve on there, I think I was a bit bored of endless purl rows)

Then Saturday, I was here: (and I’d clearly found time to paint my nails)

Then here:

And on Sunday, it blocked. I forgot to mention, on Saturday I blogged about it.

On the following Thursday, I took a trip up to North London on the strict condition that nobody went into labour anywhere near me, and delivered the present. I hope she likes it.

Excuse the crappy photo, but I took this at work using a colleague’s blackberry. It’s lucky I even managed to retrieve the photo because when I tried to email it to myself I ended up taking about six photos of my own feet. Sorry to the girl who has a blackberry full of pictures of my feet, but I hope you understand.

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