What with the gammy hand and the dicky neck and the tender ministrations of Captain Lurgy, my output has not matched my aspirations, but I am distinctly conscious that there is a nip hovering in the air, and the season to be cosy approaches nearly.
So my creative efforts have been concentrated on things warm and comforting. Hence the stripy socks. Hand-knitted socks, as I am sure that I have said before, are like cashmere cardigans - one encounter and you are ruined forever (I am still in hopes that Brora will suddenly email me, begging to sponsor my blog and offering copious amounts of things cashmere to review).
Thus I try to knit one or two pairs of cosy socks a year, and you may look at and admire my Jubilee Socks. (Yes, I was a Bay City Roller fan when I was a mere scrap of a girl - why did you ask?)
|Heavy duty winter warmers|
I cast on these jolly numbers on the Jubilee weekend in June - we had fled the country in honour of the celebration and as I sat in sunny Brittany I was quite bemused to see that the French were quite over-excited about the whole event (little union flag logos on the TV screen and hysterical TV presenters in the rain on the riverbank interviewing equally bemused Brits in their waterproofs), so we didn't have to miss anything.
I knitted my very patriotic socks, quietly satisfied that for once the weather in the country in which we had chosen to holiday was sunny and dry, and that it looked pretty grey, wet and cold at home. The converse is usually true and it has become something of a holiday essential for me to be out searching the shops for heavy-duty Goretex.
Unfortunately I have still not solved the problem of how to photograph myself in my new socks without my ankles thickening before my very eyes, or my thighs appearing to be of titanic proportions (I hear my sister sniggering as she reads this, and muttering 'stumpy' ...)
In my defence, I would like to say that these have been made as top-layer winter socks, extra-roomy to accommodate an underneath pair, for those months when my circulation comes to a halt mid-calf. The pattern is my usual favourite from Ann Budd's book, and the yarn is Regia 4-ply sock yarn - I now find out that it is Flusi Das Socken Monster yarn (colour 1807) especially for small children with small legs. I was not warned about this in the shop. Perhaps that is why my ankles are so rotund in appearance?
|Hmm, they are a bit on the thick side|
And I have also just cast on some super-cosy legwarmers (free pattern here) to ensure that my legs look equally thick the whole way along.
It is also of some comfort to me that the Little Stranger likes my socks - I know this because she jumped on my stomach and licked my face and my camera. The lens will probably never be the same again.
Thank you for all of your lovely comments on the previous post. I will come and say hello to you in return as soon as I can get round you all. Perhaps you could also say hello to the lovely new followers who are Kay at Deep in the Cornish Countryside, Sarajan at Fleachic, Pattypan at Tarragon & Thyme, Debby at Cozy Blanket, Geraldine at Sophie Belle Designs, Cheryl at My Little Piece of England, Maggie Moore at Pretty Flowers in the Window, and Kaylagking.
From a health and safety point of view you will be pleased to hear that no socks or black dogs were harmed in the manufacture of this post, but unfortunately a party of ants hitched a ride and are only now emerging from their hiding places about my person. With skin crawling I salute you and depart ...