Thursday, 9 September 2010
the dummy spit
Knitters have the reputation of being a serene lot. I imagine most people's mental picture of a knitter is someone sitting quietly, perhaps enjoying a warm drink, possibly a knee rug, perhaps with a cat or two.
Not this knitter. This knitter has been known to swear like a wharfie, especially when knitting projects don't go to plan.
I started the French Cardi three times.
The first time I didn't check my tension before starting. My hubris was rewarded with three wasted nights of knitting.
The second restart was as a result of an armhole being too tight. Not an entire restart, but a significant amount of unpulling was required.
Thirdly, after knitting about half of it, I decided it was too long.
So, for now, I've taken my needles and balls of wool and gone home. I'd like to say I'll give it a go at some point in the future, but I know I won't. I'll just have to keep admiring the French Cardi on others.