Knitty Nora

I know it's a terrible picture, but never mind the quality just admire the length

There’s nothing to this knitting lark.  Look I’ve knitted about three feet of scarf!  I can’t actually stop because I don’t know how to cast off, but hopefully I’ll be initiated into that mystery at knitting school tomorrow.  I can’t wait!  Everyone will be stunned and impressed by my scarf prowess.  I expect to be borne aloft shoulder high through the town by my class mates, cocking a snook at the grumpy lady in the wool shop as we go past. 

Last week, as the class knitted and nattered, it became clear that there is one employee at the wool shop who is universally loathed.  Unfortunately I was served by her when I bought my wool and needles.  As I hadn’t got a clue what to buy I simpered on about how I was a new knitter and needed help.  I expected a warm wooly welcome into the knitting sisterhood, possibly involving fruit cake and being shown a secret room full of adventurous tea cosies.  Instead she scowled, grunted and pointed me towards the scratchiest wool in the shop.    

Anyway soon I will finish the scarf and I will need a new, more challenging project.  Maybe something for the summer.  How about this:

Picture from here

I’ll be the belle of the beach.

It’s not just knitting that I have mastered.  I have an empty ironing basket (for the first time this year).  I even ironed the skirt with the awkward pleats and the linen trousers which require ironing at about 1000 degrees to stand a chance of getting the creases out.  I paid the price for my ironing smugness though.  I left a drawer open while putting things away and Cyril (three-legged monster cat) did some rearranging for me.  

In other news Discombobulated Towers has become a crime scene.  On Friday night a passing twonkhead smashed one of our sitting room windows causing Cyril and I (who were sitting nearby) to go into orbit.  The police came out (it must have been a slow night for CSI Shrewsbury) and added insult to injury by saying that Cyril was ‘chunky’.  Chunky?  How dare they!  We resisted the temptation of saying he’s a great deal slimmer than a lot of policemen (even though it’s true).

So there you have it, knitting, ironing and dastardly deeds.  The excitement never stops.