I know, I know, what happened to the wip clean up? It morphed into a stash clean up! Almost as good, yes? I spotted the shawl on the front cover of Inside Crochet recently and remembered this laceweight malabrigo yarn I had. I’m not sure what possessed me to buy laceweight yarn, I don’t find fine yarn easy to work with but it always comes in such tempting and colourful skeins, and these were also half price.

Winding had to be a very careful procedure. This yarn is fragile but beautifully soft. The pattern calls for a 4mm hook rather than a toothpick sized hook thank goodness and it’s not as fiddly as I expected. However, there are two things I’m not totally in love with so far and I’m not sure whether to carry on regardless or try and frog it. The first is the fact that this shawl shape seems to be going into a very deep arrow kind of shape rather than a wingspan kind of thing. The second is the colour seems more dull worked up than in the ball. Frogging is probably out of the question given the nature of the yarn so it looks as though I will have to keep on going and have a little more faith in the outcome.

This is definitely one project that I will have to keep well away from a certain four legged friend who likes to be as close to my side as he possibly can. In fact I often have to grab project and yarn and raise them in the air when he hops up and lands next to me. If I’m not quick enough we have a minor tangle to sort out, which is all very well with tough aran but wouldn’t be a pretty sight with fragile laceweight.

We had a lovely meal out tonight at the fairly new to town branch of Wildwood. It was a Mother’s Day meal a day late because M had to attend a police job yesterday evening after dashing home from J’s football match. I’ve learnt never to get too attached to any plans we make which is usually fine, I’m good at spontaneous. Sometimes we end up with cancelled plans and sometimes we get an unexpected short break somewhere nice (like the job in Wales recently).

It’s becoming increasingly tricky to coordinate all four of us for a meal out so it was especially nice to get together and reminisce about funny things that have happened over the years. The subject of my not so finest mothering moments came up including the time I was the only Mother to forget to supply their child with a straw hat for an Easter bonnet transformation, E seems to be over the trauma of it now but I will never forget her forlorn face when I picked her up with her stapled together paper hat alongside all the girls with straw bonnets. I reckon I’ve made up for that with all the crafts we’ve done together over the years, all the rag dolls we’ve made and wardrobes for them too. Not bad for a Mother who loathed dolls as a child herself.

Poor J though, he will never live down his early acting career. He loved dressing up when he was small, especially if it involved hats and so he was asked to play one of the frogs for a nursery performance of ‘three little speckled frogs’. He looked amazing in the costume with green face paint and smiled quite happily while the audience were finding seats. When the song started he was supposed to sing and then fall off the log at the right moment, we’d had a few sneak previews at home. Unfortunately this little speckled frog did not want to fall off the log in front of an audience of complete strangers. So the little speckled frog completely froze on his log while other frogs were falling off and refused to sing or move until the entire production (of nine other songs) was over. We refer to our walk out of there as ‘the walk of shame’. E and J literally cry with laughter when we recall this story.


2 thoughts on “Frangible

  1. We have similar on stage memories. Both boys being shepherds in the junior school festive play in the local municipal hall. Each shepherd was asked to come in their own simple home made rustic outfit and bring along their own sheep or failing that, something similar. One little boy turned up in a gloriously made costume sans sheep and after the initial well behaved group of shepherds sitting stage right, he eyed up my youngest’s small wooly toy sheep and made for the grab. My son was rather indignant and launched himself after the sheep ruslter who held on for grim death. My other son then stepped in and the three of them grabbed and pulled until two more boys then started to thwack the original sheep ruslter with their own sheep on his head. The audience were howling with laughter and the singing angel was being drowned out by the junior cussings and wrestling until the staff finally lept into action . The disgruntled shepherd was sat on the other side of the stage with arms folded and a thunderous scowl. Best nativity ever!


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