Sorry about that.

I've just got up and already I've disappointed the cat. After feeding, watering and otherwise pandering to his every furry whim, I stupidly left Magnus alone in a room with a box of fleece. Within seconds of realising my mistake he was in there,  claws unsheathed and with a face of bliss, kneading away at my best Hebridean. In an ideal world I would leave him to enjoy the pleasures of the fleece but that would result in my prize fibre being turned to felt. I like felt, you can't make a yurt without felt, but it doesn't lend itself to spinning.The lad was airlifted out of the box without a thought for his dignity and left to sulk on a chair. Where he still sits, giving me what every teenage girl would recognise as 'evils'

To add insult to injury it is snowing. A lot.

This should have been my inspiration.

 My teenage years came back to haunt me when I attempted to knit socks with yarn dyed by Helen at Ripples Crafts. I  bought the yarn with a book -  Knitted Socks East and West - rather than a specific project,  in mind but when I tried to choose a winning pattern, nothing worked. It was the oddest thing. The yarn was beautiful and needed to be knitted on tiny needles which made it perfect for the intricate designs, but every time I started a sock it looked wrong. All the while a niggly voice in my ear was whispering; "Make sporty socks. Make sporty socks"  Why on earth would I make a sock with any pretension to sportiness? I've never been sporty. Rugby is too noisy and I have to leave the room when Wimbledon is on because I can't bear the thought of anyone losing. Nevertheless the voice kept whispering and in the end I gave in. I cast on a simple ankle sock and the niggle was silenced. As I knitted away, the sock and the sporty style matched perfectly, looking like the kind of sock that someone ( probably not me ) would wear to the gym.
That's when it hit me. The beautiful yarn in tones of blue and turquoise that I bought because it reminded me of the sea view from Helen's studio, was actually the colour of my teenage gym shirt. More specifically, it was the colour of my gym shirt after it had had most of the life washed out of it. The colour must have been nestling deep down in my unconscious just waiting for the day when I would choose some sock yarn. Luckily for my unconscious, the socks turned out beautifully.

The unblocked sock returned to Helen's studio for a photo.

In other news, I made a jumper. You might remember that Jacqui and Andrew visited us last year, from Tennessee. One of the gifts they brought with them was yarn, handspun by Jacqui. What an amazing thing for one spinner to give to another. It is now a super cosy and slightly chic Ingenue. 

Stern looking woman models new favourite jumper.