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Schubert is my Diazepam

March 16, 2010

Thank the Lord for classical music. I’m listening, again, to Schubert’s “Im Walde“. I heard it for the first time on Sunday. I am, off the back of this piece, wondering whether to buy a gramophone. The rumbling piano noises would sound EPIC through one of those old school gramophones.

Buying a turntable-y type thing would also give me an excuse to buy the 7” of Dan le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip’s “Beat That My Heart Skipped”. It includes my favourite line of spoken word poetry in the world; “Good God damn and other such phrases, I haven’t heard a beat like this in ages” certainly beats “I love you like a fat kid loves cake”.

But why, you may ask, the sudden retreat into the world of music. Well, other than the inherent beauty of both these tracks, it’s because the world is scary. There is war. There is famine. There is man’s inhumanity to man. But mostly, there’s this:

My sick shawl awaits medical treatment

Not sure what you are seeing? Look again. Specifically, look at the place where the needles are meant to be.Exposing the wound...

This is my punishment for hubris! Last night, as I knitted row after soothing row of stocking stitch, I decided I’d like to jazz up the garter stitch edge of the shawl with a feather-and-fan lace. Foolish!

Arrogantly I got out my calculator, found the formula for calculating stitch number at ridge rows (24r – 1, if you’re interested), and translated that into a variation of feather-and-fan. I began knitting.

Something that is mentioned in the pattern is the HUGE rows you have to knit towards the end. Imagine then, if you can, my dismay at finding my lace stitch was one stitch out of alignment. Of the almost 1000 stitches I’d knitted into the border, one was incorrect. I cried.

But imagine, even more, my dismay when the lovely new bamboo needle I was knitting off was smashed. That’s right. The needle holding all of those precarious stitches was destroyed. Splintered. Put out of service.

At this point (aka The Point of Despair) I decided the lace wasn’t salvageable. I threaded in an emergency line 250 stitches long, which isn’t fun when your hand is already cramping,  and frogged back about 1,250 stitches.

Now, in the safe light of morning, I’m calmer about it. I just need to pick up the stitches on a nice pair of circulars and get on with it. Weeping about it won’t get it done.

As a plus, sort of,  I noticed that the shawl was far, far too small to start on the edging. I needed maybe 10 more pattern repeats. Is that the silver lining? I suspect that it’s all I’m getting.

But hey ho. It’s a lovely day outside. My chickens are frollicking with my rabbits. My ducks are swimming in the pond. I’ve still got my youth.

And, as a plus, we have music:

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