into the pit we go

I hate what flash does to photographs - but I'm on a deadline, here, and haven't got time to even try and take a photo properly.

And what is the photo of? Why, it is of my olympic knit kit entry - aka 'it started out as a Faroese Shawl, and it is now taking over my life'. I think, with hindsight (and because people are beginning to glaze over when I start talking), I may just be taking this all a bit too seriously. That said, I have managed to lure some others into the game, even though they play on the dark side (with crochet hooks, that is).

I have yarn - although I am seriously worried that I have enough, and am laying the groundwork for getting my hands on emergency supplies. I have books - many, many books. Too many books. And I am consulting them all. I have needles - at least 8 4mm circulars, because I keep forgetting that I have some, and go and buy some more. I have charts - well sort of. What I do have is a growing pile of paper with scribbles (don't worry, I recycle). I do, at least, have the start of a chart (the border pattern is 390 stitches. The border pattern repeat is 390 stitches. Impressive, I think). And I know what designs will be on the gusset (I love that word, gusset, it fits so well with lace, but I have difficulty calling it a trapezoid, as I was never very good at maths). I have websites - I have a large and every growing bookmark folder, containing the addresses of people far better at knitting than I, and I am mercilessly raiding their pages, looking for advice. I have, as it turns out, a very indulgent housemate - who this very evening announced I had special dispensation during the knitting olympics to be next to useless about anything house-bound (I think he may have realised that 8 circular needles could be dangerous in the hands of a knitter over the edge). I have swatches - in the wrong yarn, to play with the patterns, and in the right yarn, to work out gauge. Did I say I have swatches? They keep following me around the house, they attach themselves to my clothes, my shoes, my bags (I think they may be trying to communicate, that or trying to smother me), and there are little yarn tail trails waiting in doorways, at the top of stairs, in the kitchen, in the bed, just waiting. I have a calculator - that is wimpering for help, begging me to stop pounding its buttons, and to stop screaming when it doesn't give the answers I want (told you I was not good at maths).

I have 5 days - I have not enough time.

But, I am part of Team GB (go team GB!), and I say - to the sounds of over-blown patriotic music - never surrender.


Oh, and Mary-Lou, you are no doubt right that the kitten was after the butter and eggs. But seriously, there was the peel and juice of 5 large lemons in there, and the curd could fell a charging yak.

Edited to add:

Jenla have allowed (encouraged?) me to make a fool of myself all over their blog. I'd like to thank them, again, for their sterling work in covering the Knitting Olympics (and assure everyone that my views do not necessarily reflect those of Team GB - Go Team GB!).