Over the last few days, I've been busy. Busy and slack. I've had five meals out (or takeaway).
Tonight I've had my comeuppance. Actually I am still having it. I hope that the apparently endless stream will end and I'll be able to go to bed. I am so tired I'm likely to fall asleep on the bog.... It is a pity it doesn't have a proper door yet, though I am glad I put the curtain back up! We have a door for it now but it has to be installed.
So in more pleasant matters, a while ago I finished these socks. They are in the Ewe Give Me the Knits sock yarn that I bought at Bendi. I like them. They are squooshy and soft and lurid.
As usual I couldn't make a pair.
I haven't worn them yet because the weather hasn't been that cold. I've worn some of my lightweight handknitted socks but it is coming into the season for light cotton socks or no socks at all. Hooray! (Much as I love knitting and wearing my woolly socks, I am a spring/summer person, long days, etc.)
And in answer to some questions, yes you have seen one of the socks recently but not both of them, yes I did long ago promise a pattern for the netted sock but given Leyburn came out a whole year earlier, you may as well make them! The bows I haven't written up properly - I started three years ago when we were in Colorado but I don't write patterns. I write recipes.
I have to make another unpair for someone who has helped me out quite a bit this year. Gotta dye some yarn that means. I would gift her these ones except her feet are a bit shorter than mine and unravelling the toe and undoing pattern and remaking it is fraught because these are toe up socks.
Remembrance Day came and went apparently unmarked last week, though I did do a minute's silence. My poppies are growing and flowering well, the Flander's Poppies that I grow in memory of my Pop and those who fought in wars, whether or not they made it home, whether or not they managed to reintegrate into society. The more I think about it, the more it seems likely that Pop had PTSD as it is now called. He certainly had bouts of the horrors and disappeared into his shed for a rendezvous with the bottle. Anyway, I love my red poppies, "Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade," (Sting, Children's Crusade). I have rosemary for remembrance and still have not managed to get rid of all the forget me nots - how could I forget them when I can't get rid of them?
*yawn* Scuse me! Very tired now. Maybe I can go to bed if it pleases you gut?