…well… silk and wool. I made Cazzy a pair of slippers out of this stuff too, such a pretty colour and really warm. Yes, it’s yet another neckwarmer but this time really only a moss stitch, rectangular mini-scarf with a buttonhole knitted into it. I like the way it looks like a big collar but I’m quite bored with looking at my own head. I must start making things to actually flog and then I can justify nagging my friends into being stunt necks for photos.
Check out that button though! I’ve been carrying around that Bambi button for years but I never really make anything that calls for buttons so small. In the end I took a leaf out of the books of those gels who make button-y jewellery and just stacked up a few all together. Nice huh?
Trivia fact: I know 4 individuals – all women, all sensible stand-up gals and all adorable – who have a phobia of buttons. Dear ladies – I mention this not because I think you are freaks (we all have our phobias – as it turns out I have a gazillion of my own) but because I find those odds so bloody remarkable.
I knitted the bulk of this during the Grand Final yesterday, propped up with pillows on the bed with a kir royale to one side of me, texting game critique back and forth with my fellow Hawks fan, Susie (in Perth) as Hawthorn came galloping home and Roy and HG shouted from my wee radio, urging Geelong (the Cats) to ‘Get off the kitty litter!’ and referring to my own victorious team colours of brown and gold as ‘the poo and the wee’. I’ve supported Hawthorn (limply – only really tuning in towards the end of the season every year) since I was a child and have never ceased to be mortified by their colour scheme.
I must confess that the Hawks didn’t really win through sheer sporting brilliance but because for a large part of the game, Geelong couldn’t kick a goal for quids. Hawthorn players seemed to keep being sent off to have their feet glued back on and sure enough they must have used 5-minute aryldite because pretty much all but one made it back onto the field at some point. The one who didn’t behaved like an arse, hooting and hollering on his crutches when he got his premiership medal too. I say – if you didn’t touch the ball, keep it down a bit, eh? But ne’er the less – good on you lads, good on you.
There was a confusing moment during the half-time sprints when I looked up at the telly from my knitting to see a rep from every team running away from a giant disposable razor. Turns out the sprints were sponsored by Gillette. Huh.
