have needles, will travel

Snoop Frog reports live, on location in Windsor.

Mr. Bones is finally finished... It was gifted today to my brother-in-law, who was quick to point out that he looks "awful in hats". Thankfully he is willing to overlook his vanity in order to wear a one-of-a-kind knit cap with skulls all over it. Note that this is not actually Ant, but rather Mr. Pigeon himself. I handed it to him for inspection, and he immediately put it on and said, "Thanks!" I wasn't sure Ant would ever see it.

Generally I'm very pleased with the way it's turned out, though it seems a bit corrugated in spots. Probably a result of my tight pulls in places rather than fair isle in general. Also a bit bummed that the two rows I was forced to tink never quite whipped back into shape (you can see it in the mouth/nose area of the second repeat of skulls).

I was very happy with my mods... both accidental and deliberate. My one regret is that the pressing deadline forced me to do a teeny little lining -- about 1.5 inches instead of the prescribed 2.5 inches. It's just tall enough to tempt you to roll it up, but just short enough that it looks silly if you do. Alas... the imperfections are just going to have to be part of the charm.

Thrilled that Mr. Bones is done and dusted, I happily tucked into my next effort: The Spumoni Mary Janes. Inspired by Saartje's booties, I plan on making some MJs with white soles (vanilla), pink uppers (strawberry), and green buttons (pistachio). These will undoubtedly be even more edible than the originals, which I fear may be facing a frog. Increasingly unhappy with the straps, and discovered that I screwed up my increases, too. Ah, obsession.

There's something deeply satisfying about knitting in England. It might be the crisp weather, or the tea, or the constant threat of rain. Or maybe, as is often the case, I'm just noticing the satisfaction more bathed in the light of this new context.

So here I am in a cafe in Windsor, drinking a so-so overpriced Americano and doing exactly what I'd be doing at home, my indignant husband scoffing at the £10 price of Wifi just out of frame:

I also took the opportunity to check out a local yarn store. I asked my photographically-inclined brother-in-law to take photos of the shop while I browsed. Sadly, the image of the storefront at right was all I got before he got distracted and started snapping closeups of cars and gravel. Boys.

Like everything in England, the shop was too small and too crowded. That said, they had a huge selection of Rowan and Debbie Bliss, as well as a few English brands I'd never seen before. I picked up about 400 yards of a lovely yarn called Baby Bamboo
that's made in Yorkshire. It's oh-so-soft, and might supplant the Rowan Kid Classic when I finally get around to my Dashings.

So here I am, with enough yarn for 5 projects and only enough brain for one. Tomorrow... Oxford, more tea, and the growing disappointment that this feels remarkably unlike anything in an Austen novel.