Yesterday was a wash, literally, it rained like billyo all day. Productivity was also irretrievably dented when Keith and the printer/scanner fell out. An hour and a half of wrestling with it sent him into a thorough crimp. The fact that it then worked after switching the machine off and on again merely added insult to injury. We had barely regained equilibrium when lunch at the Cobbles intervened. This repaired the jollity of the day greatly though.
Stuffing was abandoned, save for the token gesture of whizzing up breadcrumbs. A short window between lunch and Zoom drinks with tier 4 locked in friends in London saw me set one of the sides of salmon to cure in a mix of salt, sugar, pine needles, lemon zest, juniper berries and vodka. This is a new mix so fingers are crossed. A barage of knitting followed and the neck of the “big ” Christmas jumper was done. Sewing up followed the Zoom drinks. It was a stinker of a job. Stripes and fair isle banding makes for a gazillion ends to sew in then snip off. By the time I crept up to bed at 12.30 (much to Keith’s disgust) I had finished assembling the final “big” Christmas jumper and washed it and commenced monkey’s Christmas jumper. There are those who would say that knitting a matching cashmere sweater for a 6 inch plush beanie baby is bizarre, and that to do so in a complementary fairisle design is simply insane. However, we all know that such persons are deeply wrong, but more to be pitied than decried. Monkey has been with us for years, has stuck with us through many trials and tribulations, once even returning (mysteriously rejuvenated) at Christmas after having been lost in the Peak District. If that isn’t deserving of one small annual sweater nothing is. Christmas Eve therefore often sees me at 1.30 am still wrestling with a tiny raglan.
Today, like a stopped clock, Boris Johnson finally got something right. That’s probably it for the rest of his puff. Keith’s phone woke me by flashing urgently at 7 to advise of a Brexit deal being cobbled together. ( I shall say no more about this having ranted endlessly to all who would listen, and many who wished for sudden deafness, about the imbecility of all this Brexit nonsense). This helpfully woke me up (this early alarm was the thing BJ got right – the deal is most likely a disaster) and it is not yet 10 and I am back on track. The last of the “by hands” have been wrapped and are ready to go. Monkey’s jumper has a back, front and an arm and a half. All that remains is a pile of our own wrapping, stuffing and sundry other meal prep. This will be a breeze I am sure, and the next Zoom drinks are at 8 so I have a clear run.
over and out