I had an epiphany. It came as I reached the waistline of the wrapover raglan. Goodness, I thought, I wish I'd thought of something more entertaining to knit. While it was very satisfying to discover that I hadn't tossed out my maths skills with my school uniform, and that I can work out my own pattern, it turns out that the kind of thing I worked out wasn't the kind of thing I felt like knitting. So enjoy this (left), fans of unidentifiable masses of dark yarn (I know there are some of you out there, right?), because the next time you see a huddle of black stitches sitting on my needle, it will be something entirely different. Look (right)!
The problem with the raglan? Too much bloody stockinette. So why I thought this might be the ideal "alternative" project, I have no idea - except that a large amount of chunky yarn had come my way via the charity shops of Bath and inspiration was low. By the time I'd separated the body and sleeves, inspiration was threatening to pop her head in the gas oven and put an end to it all, so after a desultory start on a sleeve I heeded her cry for help and stopped the torture. The capelet is gone now, back to the ball of Sirdar Nova whence it came. I never expected to be the knitter who gets bored of stockinette, and I can only put it down to having been spoilt by the perfections of Matilda Jane and the joyful details which trick that cardigan out to make the simplest stitch into a fascinating knit (yes, she is finished; yes, she is lovely; no, you can't see her yet).
It turns out that there is a place for stockinette in my knitting bag, but not too much of it, and only with something about it to hold my interest. Now this is fun to knit, and the most fun part is finally being able to move the Noro Aurora out of my stash and onto the needles. My feelings on the virtues of stashing have been refined from "cautious" to "absolute horror" by having to lump my yarn collection halfway down the country and the knowledge that in less than five months I'll be moving all over again.
A sort of lifestyle magazine. The "style" is "bookish indie girl with an arts-and-crafts fetish and a spendthrift fashion habit"; the "life" is, strictly, my own. It's a niche publishing operation.