Regardless of what columnists from various magazines would have you believe, size does matter. I’m not talking about man-vegetables – Hi Mum – but rather about tape-measures from the 60s which have been stretched into peculiarly shaped inches, knitting needles which don’t correspond to the gauge on the wool pack, and plug sockets which are just the tiniest bit too small to accommodate the plug adaptor I bought in Europe.

Even when the size is off just the tiniest bit, the discrepancy can snowball and result in a sweater that is wide enough to home two scarily fat hobbits and the entire staff of the NHS. I am actually very proud of my as-yet-sleeveless project. The stitches are neat, I didn’t drop any, I figured outa way to make the collar look better than the original pattern called for and I raced through 4 balls of double-knit yarn in the space of just a week, however the thing I have made fundamentally fails in its primary purpose. When draped majestically on S-, for example, it looks more like he’s wearing a toga than a snuggly top. Don’t get me wrong, that might be because he’s so thin, but it illustrates that because I used needles 0.25mm too large, I ended up with something very much too wide.

Life seems to continue as normal though. I ordered the Wizard of Oz from amazon in an attempt to subdue my musical addiction slightly. I’ve never read the book so I’m looking forward to that. I’m also planning my shopping trips to Fortnum and Mason for when I’m suddenly famous for… something. Looking at my current efforts though, I don’t think it’ll be as a knit-wear designer. Maybe Milliewray is right and we should just both become actresses. I might write us a depressing play to star in later on today – one with lots of current issues, social undertones and for no real reason, funny face paints and big broadway dance chorus’s.

Or maybe I’ll just put the kettle on…

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