Last weekend we went to the Cotswolds on our regular visit to my husband's step-mother. All down the M11 the information boards warned us of severe weather to come. We recalled the time we drove across the A66 just before the closing of the snow gates. I always felt that the words would not be out of place in a work of magic realism.
It was bitterly cold in Stratford - -8 outside, we were told. We stocked up with provisions - I even invested in two travel rugs - then ate the earliest possible lunch before setting out on the return journey. Not a flake of snow fell on us before we reached home, fortunately; but, by morning, Essex was transformed. This is a view across the fields to the village, some days later.
And here's my current project. I would like to say I am making progress, but this would not be true. The reason for being stuck lies in a shift of method in pattern-writing. Some years ago, I knitted a lovely blue cabled jumper for my husband from this Hayfield pamphlet.
It came out really well, so that when he wore it on our visit to the Aran Islands themselves, it drew comments.
However, in the intervening years, I have got used to reading charts of cabled patterns, so that returning to this one, where the picture is on one page and the instructions on two different pages, written out as panel patterns line by line, I find myself getting lost very easily. Can this be another example of the increasingly visual culture in which we live?
I also feel this may be more in the modern idiom with the neckline adapted to make it a gilet, instead of a Vee-neck waistcoat. We'll see.