Jean brought a homemade cake to Clicking Needles because it is her 70th birthday this week. We all signed a card for her, sang Happy Birthday and she blew out the candle. I have gone into a minor spin because my birthday will fall while I'm here - will I be expected to bake a cake? A disaster looms - I cannot bake cakes and I have a feeling that this is a rite of passage. I wonder if Tesco sells Pavlovas?
Gillian is still knitting squares. Marie has taken up knitting but she talks too much and keeps dropping stitches and wrapping the wool round her needles the wrong way. I felt vastly superior as I deftly kept working at my knit one, purl one, and produced a hat by the afternoon's end. I was soon brought back down to earth by Sylvia who then proceeded to pull from her bag three perfect baby hats in different designs which she had whipped up last night. Or so she said!
Talk revolved around an article in today's paper, and why Sarah Brown was knitting what looked like miniature hats to put over bottle tops for Help The Aged. The fact that Mrs Gordon Brown was obviously part of a publicity stunt was not at issue at all. The concern was why bottle tops needed woollen covers. What was the point? Dawn declared it a heinous waste of wool and that Sarah Brown would be better joining our group and knitting hats for premature babies. Hear, hear.
Knitting has given me not only stiff and cramped hands, but a sore neck. I made an appointment with Mandy, the local masseuse who lives (and works) in the next village. Unfortunately Mandy fell victim to a migraine but she arranged for her friend Susan to come and sort me out.
Despite the fact that the temperature gauge has fallen below zero and snow has started to fall, Mandy had a very warm treatment room and after a huge welcome from her enormous labrador dog, Susan got to work on my neck. Afterwards, the three of us sat down in Mandy's living room by the fire for a blether and a cup of tea which of course took far longer than the massage. Actually there were four of us including Harris, the labrador, who sprawled across his designated two seats of the sofa.
By the time I left I knew all about how Mandy met her husband at a funeral; the history of her previous and current labrador dogs; how Susan gave up on boxers and now has a schnauzer, a pug and a terrier; and the plans for a new year's eve shindig in the local hall so all the villagers can have a few bevvies and not worry about driving. Susan has invited me to go on a day's outing with her so she can show me around some of the local sights - I shall shortly take her up on this kind offer.
The consequences of picking up a pair of knitting needles are amazing!
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