I suffered a betrayal yesterday. I called my mother to ask for knitting advice and she told me to swatch. I know, how horrifying?
I moved to Scotland in 2014, when the country was days away from voting in the Independence Referendum. The weather was being stereotypically Scottish in the mix of misty, grey and drizzle-y. The Scottish would call the weather a bit ‘dreich’, but at that point I hadn’t even heard of the word. I was wandering around bemused by how to pronounce ‘Buccleuch’ and ‘Cockburn’, two streets in Edinburgh that are essential to any student trying to meet up with anyone. My pronunciation made a resident of the city nearly cry. Oops?
Let’s step away from the actual work for a moment here. Put it down on the ground and slide it away. Everything is going to be fine.
For me, the past month has been a bit confusing with striking lecturers and snow days. There’s been good days but I’ve been meandering along trying to keep up with changing deadlines. As of yesterday, work has been submitted and I’m free to think of knitting! Come join me?
(I guess you’ve found this. Beware all ye who enter here! Not really, but the title should be all the warning you should need. I’m sorry and you’re welcome.)