Glove affair

Can you believe I made this glove yesterday?

All right, it’s not exactly finished, and yes, it’s one short of a pair, but I’m pretty proud nonetheless. Look at the lacy bits!

OMG isn't that pretty?

It’s meant to be a surprise for Child One, whose hands go purple when she’s playing the piano. Admittedly, the heating is not on in that room, but I think it’s more that she’s inherited my unenthusiastic circulation. My blood scarcely bothers to go down to my toes. Well, it would only have to come back up again, wouldn’t it? It saves itself the bother and stops somewhere around my knees. The result is that my feet maintain a steady sub-arctic temperature and I always sleep in socks – mostly two pairs these days. Poor Child One has the same problem, but with her hands. I feel guilty at having passed on this flaw – I thought the deal was that our children got our good bits, and none of our bad bits – hence the gloves.

Mummy's little helper?

I’m not actually supposed to be making anything for Child One at the moment. It’s Child Two’s turn, and I’ve been happily making her a blanket for a while.

One of the squares for Child Two's blanket

But, calamity has struck – and I never thought I would use that word in conjunction with knitting wool – as the white colour doesn’t seem to be available any more. Thus I am regrouping with the glove. Gosh, it’s not easy being a crocheteuse, or whatever we call ourselves. But the good news is that I will soon be able to share my woes with a like-minded group, who meet at the local library’s Knit and Natter sessions. This sounds a lot more friendly than the Stitch and Bitch sessions I’ve heard of before. Gosh, I lead the life of a little old lady. Thank goodness I have a brood of clamouring offspring to keep me young (or deaf).




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