I have a volunteer to test-knit my next pattern: Nudibranch (see previous postings) just as soon as we’ve both finished our current busy-ness.
Jean, thank you so much. This may just be the incentive I need to find the time to get the pattern written out properly. I do need to knit it again for myself, as the prototype ended up looking rather like a lei and was given away to a lovely Polish regular of ours:
Magda with the elaborated Nudibranch and a bottle of Polish beer
Before that, however, I need to take notes on how I think I made the Royalty set, and package them up and send them off to London. Foolishly, I just knitted away rather than taking notes as I went, and I find that trying to deconstruct the process afterwards is less than satisfactory.
In defiance of the grumpy old man (probably trademarked by the TV program, but anyway) I spent some time knitting in the pub today. Not a lot, and progress is slow because the Jaeger Odessa has a strand of ‘sparkly stuff’ which runs along with the yarn, and the strands don’t always slip through my fingers at the same rate. It would be a serious problem if I was a knitter who strangled both yarn and needles, but even so I have to stop and fiddle with it every-so-often to get it all to behave.
Plastering again today. No, not plastered. After fixing the plaster in one of the bedrooms a few weeks ago hubby has decided that since I’m so good at it, I can do any other plastering that needs done.
Sadly, he knows me far too well, and realises that I find a challenge irresistible. The locals think he’s mad, allowing a woman to to “men’s work”…. Thank you Dad for letting me use almost all of the tools in the garage (except the radial arm saw), and help with fixing cars, mending drains, and all sorts of other fun things that so many girls still don’t get to do.
Anyway, someone decided to remove a lot of the wallpaper in the Ladies’ loo over the weekend. We finished the job yesterday, and chipped off some old bulgy plaster (I know there’s a word for it, but can’t find it). Today I brushed off as much of the old plaster dust and horsehair as I could, hauled out an old wooden dook, sprayed the rest with dilute PVA glue, and plastered up the hole. Tonight or tomorrow I will put on the skim plaster, and once that has dried I’ll paint all the walls with bonding liquid (aka slightly less dilute PVA glue) and paint the whole thing.
Then hubby will help me put up a new mirror and shelf, and we’ll wait for them to get vandalised.
Actually, it’s not that bad. Most of our customers are very well behaved, and it’s generally only after we’ve had to ask someone to leave that we find some revenge has been taken somewhere in the building.
We’ve decided we need to get a new mobile phone for the hotel. Living where we do, the choice of network is rather limited: it’s O2 or O2 if you want reception indoors. So, I toddled off to the O2 website, chose a phone, tariff and accessories, and attempted to pay with the company debit card.
So I tried to phone the O2 customer service line. If ever there was a name which didn’t apply…. After about three minutes on hold, you are simply cut off. Four times, in my case, as I was daft enough to keep trying the national rate number in an attempt to buy the pesky phone. After that, I got a dalek saying “The voicemailbox for O2 online sales is full, to transfer to another number…..” at which point I did what Brits do at all times of stress, and went and had a cup of tea.
For more on that, do read “Watching the English” – a very funny book, particularly for me as an incomer. I hadn’t realised just how much of the culture applied on both sides of the border, nor how much I had assimilated in my efforts to fit in.