I'm sitting at the giant wooden kitchen table I inherited from my father, feet up on a chair opposite, staring blankly at my computer. Behind me, a load of dripping handwashing is slowly causing a puddle - after seeing Bekki's amazing forecast at a conference yesterday, I was inspired to re-block my increasingly misshapen one. Flatmate-Kirsty is sitting on the floor with her back against the radiator, wrapped in a giant blanket and reading the Guardian magazine. Her hair is alarmingly straightened, after a cut on Thursday. We are both failing to get up and go out for cocktails and general glamorousness, and I'm half re-writing a lesson plan for Monday. We are contemplating making curried parsnip soup for dinner.
Me: I want to blog those red socks but I can't think of anything to say about them.
Kirsty: I think you should say 'Socks. Done. Red! Grrrrrrrrrrrrahhh.'
So, here you go: Socks, pomatomus to be precise.
They are done, and red, though I tend to subscribe to the view all pomatomus should really be blue/ green I somehow felt the yarn called for the pattern. It's Araucania Ranco Solid in case you were wondering.
They are first pair of socks I've managed the two-socks-at-once trick. Hence the "Grrrrrrrrrrrrahhh" noise. Hear me roar.
*sotto voce* though I did cheat for a few rounds at the heel and them worked one at a time, the flap was just getting in the way (admittedly, I was drinking, doing a pub quiz and teaching Kirsty figure-8 caston at the same time, there is a limit to my multi-tasking). I liked this two-at-once business, I'm going to do it again.
Ravelled here. Now I'm off to bake an apple and plum crumble and then an early night. Working tomorrow.