One two three four five six seven eight nine ten

…bottom of the hill of the front of what now seems like my thousand-year project, and it’s looking a very long way up to the end… and I haven’t even thought about sleeves....

When I summoned up the strength to pick it up once again last night, I tried to distract myself by watching an elderly warhorse of substantial experience offer very good advice to a studiedly oafish young hothead on television.  And even though I do say so myself, that’s an extraordinarily charitable depiction of such a wildly destructive, self absorbed goon.  And being a goon, along with being a monumental drain on communal resources, is about the only function I could ever envisage him performing ably  (and familiarity with his particular brand of bottomless pit of charmless hassle is sadly second nature to me)(don’t ask).  But stick to the job in hand, I told myself.  Don't waste your energies.  

The on screen warhorse was a good role model for decorum, remaining calm and respectful despite what she was dealing with, while I twisted and clicked furiously and ruminated that even a brick bat – which would be pretty much up his own style colourway actually - wouldn’t get through that numbskull the fact that sometimes easy answers are not the answer.  And I considered how I was never cut out for a career as a diplomat, and how incredibly TIrED I am of sitting it out until the inevitable road to Damascus conversion occurs, where anyone still alive despite this joker's worst efforts, and trapped in his slipstream, will be bored into the ground about how he was once the alpha and omega of impetuosity but now has seen the light… That is, if he doesn't manage to hoist himself on his own petard first, which is another very likely and much more cheering outcome... and in case you're feeling sorry for him, don't: this is no destruction is creation situation

Then suddenly I had an easy answer of my own and hit the off switch, nya-haha.     

The Lost Post

 ...hopefully only lost in transit...

Wednesday

Knitters may empathise with the fact I mailed this over two weeks ago and no sign at the other end. The official missing parcel form of complaint has been filled and left with the man with the pencil behind his ear in the relevant office, but odd that it hasn't come back...

As I said, though, hopefully only lost.   

Friday

On clearing out a purse, I saw that I sent the wrong post office receipt in with my lost parcel form.  I called up to say sorry for the confusion and time wasted, but I was now rushing to bring the right one in.....

"Hold on a moment, please", said the man,  polite but firm and a long, unstressed pause on the line began as he set in train investigations to locate my case... I only knew he was still there because of his calm, regular, audible breathing.   

Presently he enquired, "When exactly did you drop in the form?" in the kind of thirty-a-day voice  you don't often hear these days, and of a tone instantly identifiable with a will to leave no stone unturned in any quest to fully deal with a matter-in-hand.  So I mentally tuned down an awful lot, because if you get too sparky with a tone like this, you'll be very sorry. When I was a child, the world was populated by these guys.

So I replied, equally unhurriedly. "Delivered by hand.  Just two days ago".

"By hand", he repeated... "but two days...: there's your problem: it takes four to register on the system. You're not even here yet.  Your best bet is to wait till you get your card in the post giving you your case number.  When that arrives, write in, quoting your case number, and explain your predicament".

"Thank you", I said.  "Em. By the way, do things often go missing?  It's been well over two weeks"

"No, we don't generally get much back from there, no.  Mind you, if it's a parcel there could be a matter of Internal Security involved.                                                                 Was there a return address on the parcel?"

"Yes"

"Clearly marked?", severity was discernible. 

"In black indelible marker! Both addressee and sender! Very clearly marked!", I replied indignantly. 

Another silence.

Then I asked, "In your opinion, is this item lost permanently, or could it take this long to make its way back?"

"Oh, more than my job's worth to state any personal view without the facts, but indeed it could, Ma'am, indeed it could. They post it the long way round to save themselves the money.  That can be a very time consuming scenario".

                 *                                          *                                              *                                               

A week later

I traveled to visit my son for his birthday with a bought sweater and that's when the acknowledgement letter finally showed up back home.  When I got back I called once more - this time with my case number - to  eliminate any confusion over the wrong receipt.  

A new upbeat guy at the other end of the line had me right up on screen in seconds.."Karen, isn't it?", he asked and mentioned the destination address too

"Yes", I replied sourly...  "Only it never got there.  Or back here either for that matter".

"That's right!", great mood undeterred.

“Well I thought I should make sure you had the right information"

"Won't make much difference, but we'll put it in anyway!!", he said merrily.

"What?! What are my chances? Your colleague said it might take a long time but maybe eventually..."

“Not much, to be honest!”, he replied with a philosophical chuckle.

“But it was hand knit”, I said.  “Hand knit by me…Pretty much irreplaceable!”.

 “Oh I know!” and his upbeat was not without kindness.  “My own wife is currently up to her eyes in festive knitting... a cowl on needles the size of oars…size 16, she tells me..” and he seemed to fall about with mirth at the concept. 

 “But where does that leave my son’s sweater?”   

“Sent it on the twenty-ninth?!” he observed, calming down. “Not looking so good I'm afraid, not so good!” 

Karmic Warrior

Trent

by Martin Storey in Rowan Brushed Fleece Wool: 65%, Alpaca: 30%, Polyamide: 5%

Harry asked for a slouchy sweater, and this is the same yarn type and from the same pattern collection as the previous post…. This colour was fully integrated with the yarn - there was none of the layering experienced in the last project, which was also very nice but of a slightly different consistency. The overall finished effect here is very soft and warm.   A monumental thank you to consistent knitter, Karen, who sewed up at breakneck pace, while hosting a very full house, vitally completing in time for the finale of Love Hate… which, by the way, is one of the best things ever to have happened in the history of television, but which also can have a dramatic effect on knitting tension.

Harry is a karmic warrior armed with truth, an open heart and a generous nature who navigates his way through the twisty-bendy ghosts and ghouls of life with good cheer. He is honour personified and unwittingly melts lies and negativity like a charm - he'd never knowingly hurt a fly, but in the face of injustice to others or himself, he becomes fury itself. He's also my son, and it’s an understatement to say that I’m proud of him and of all his achievements to date.   

Just over a year ago, he went to work for Squarespace (our host here) and persuaded me that it wasn't just a great place to work, but also that in terms of cool websites they had the situation, erm, sewn up... and hence this blog!