She passed away 10 years' ago. We all miss her tonnes, and her legacy of lovely, woolly socks now have holes in them. This week I've been desperately trying to figure out how she did it. I started off with half an idea of how to make it work, but I've been battling to get it right - all week - like a determined little terrier who just won't give up. And, as a result, nothing else has got done. Oops!
I thought I'd have a go with a smallish pair for Emi's smallish feet. I figured out how to turn the heel without any difficulty but I've had a bit of a struggle to get those toes into place. This, ta-dah, is where I've got to:
Maybe I could just leave them like that. How do toeless socks grab you as a concept? Inbuilt ventilation: the perfect antidote to smelly feet. I mean we've got fingerless gloves, which people who mess around doing stuff outdoors love to wear, so why not toeless socks that leave your toes free for ... well ... um ... <searches for ideas> ... scratching your legs with? No? OK, OK, you're right: that's a ship that may be hard to launch.
I even bought a pattern book, but it was written in such an infuriatingly, unhelpful way that it had me turning to the author's bio page to tell her photo that her instructions were worse than hopeless every time I've tried to use it. Yes, I was that demented. What is it with people who do technical things and then can't explain them to us normal mortals? I had a physics teacher like that once. He used to drive us all mental, walking us round in circles and tying us up in knots with the most complicated, long-winded explanations imaginable for concepts that could have been explained simply in a few sentences. Luckily my dad's good at maths and physics so I used to figure it out at home with his help. At the end of year we said that we'd passed our physics exams despite our teachers's input!
Happily I did manage to finish off my Sparkly Party Wrap on Monday before I fell victim to my sock obsession.
And I've been busy out in the garden with Maxi, the Wonder Dog, at my heels. We've been doing a much needed autumn tidy-up. Well I have, and the Wonder Dog has been digging holes - everywhere - and hasn't really helped at all. I don't know what's got into him, but he's keen as mustard on digging holes these days. He has also got a sock fetish (I think there's something in the water over here), which means that, in addition to messy paw prints all over my floors, I also have the added delight of a mud monster for a pooch and the daily excitement of unearthing badly buried socks beneath my rose bushes. Happy Days!
And talking or roses, as I've mentioned in the past (check out my how to make pot pourri and more about how to make pot pourri posts) I'm an enthusiastic maker of pot pourri. This week I've bought a lovely new rose that promises to be perfect for this purpose. Here's what I'm hoping it will look like come the springtime:
Isn't it a beauty?
It's called Munstead Wood by the wonderful David Austin. It's named after Gertrude Jekyll's private garden at Munstead Wood, her home designed by her chum, Edwin Lutyens. To be very honest I was sold on the name and the association with the great doyenne of the Arts and Crafts Movement, but once I'd got over my swoon the rest of the details sounded pretty spot on. It's a wonderful dark, dark red. Light coloured roses tend to discolour as they dry. It's also a vigorous repeat flowerer with a strong, heavy olde worlde fragrance. Tick, tick, tick: it's got all the attributes of a perfect pot pourri rose.
Inside I've been scattering around poinsettias. My local flower shop took a delivery of these cheeky little chaps earlier in the week, and I just couldn't walk home without them. Now my challenge is to not kill them before Christmas. I'm a bit rubbish with indoor plants, so that's a big challenge for me - maybe even bigger than getting those toes to go in the right place in Emi's socks <sigh!>.
Emi's busy practising for his Christmas play at school. It's about the Christmas Day ceasefire back in 1914. He's Tommy number 5 from somewhere down the line, and we've had our usual, seasonal dash to get him kitted out for his dress rehearsals.
He's also discovered a how-to guide for making the best paper aeroplane in the world, by the chap who holds the world record for flying a paper aeroplane further than anyone else has ever done. No, I didn't know that particular record category existed either. Anyway, this has given young Emi a focus on all things aeronautical this week, which has kept him busy with his Lego bricks and some torn-out pages from his maths homework book.
If you've got a little person at home who might be interested in this paper aeroplane technology you can find the link for the how-to guide here: Paper aeroplanes by the Paper Aeroplane Guy. I was very sceptical about his boasts, and his special construction tools, but his design does work well. The broad wings get a lot of lift, especially if you stand on top of the stairs and launch it down into the hallway.
Anyway, those toes are calling out to me and I know that they're not going to knit themselves any time soon, so I'll wish you all the very best for a truly lovely weekend,