w4 review: aaaaatchoo

Tuesday night after realising I had everything figured out, I cleaned the guinea pigs’ hutch. Because Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. They seem happy with it, after the usual nose-bomping their toys back into the Correct places.

A few things combined to make Wednesday very useful. I woke early and journalled and then wrote the next part of Lark’s Guests. I’m unpicking the aesthetic destroyer leg warmers that I started with hot pink yarn because I want to make an aesthetic destroyer blanket instead. I’m looking forward to how comfortably hideous it’s going to be. Crocheted on both my bus trips & then while catching up on podcasts (Stella Rae and 99pi), because it’s only moss stitch and I don’t have to count or think.

On Thursday it was too cloudy to be truly cold so I raked and weeded between the beans and brassicas (one of the cabbages has mildew but we’re leaving it in until someone feels brave enough to touch it) and mended the bird netting with square knots. Things I did not do in the afternoon include: going to the coast, writing the novel, sweeping the living room floor.

Friday afternoon the bad throat I’d woken up with developed enthusiastically into a proper cold, which knocked Saturday into orbit. I did nothing but cuddle the puppy, crochet and take paracetamol. The Big Spoon has been majestically supportive about making sure I’m tucked in but can reach a hot drink at all times. I’m very lucky.

Two new notebooks onto society6 this week: some daffodil shoots and a patch of silver birch bark. I quite like how the silver birch one lined up – you could write the title of the notebook in that paler section.

The new moss stitch blanket has been an excellent companion on six bus trips and three sofa evenings and it’s really helping me get through my yarn stash crate – I can crochet straight off the older pieces I’m reusing, skipping the stage of turning them into a pretty ball. This also means that Priscilla can do limited amounts of damage if she does get hold of it. A few rows of undone crochet is far easier to tidy up than a ball with the heart ripped out.

She has been a total honey these last few days while I’ve been ill. Very forgiving little poppet. I suppose it helps that she’s a lap dog by nature and when I’m swooning on the sofa I become five foot six of acceptable lap substitute. But I truly appreciated her offer to help me sort the laundry. Maybe next time, baby.

I’ve just looked at the long range weather forecast and it’s seriously not expected to freeze again all of February. It’s not quite as noobish of me as one might think to sow some seeds next time I get up to the allotment. That will not be today because, did I mention, I’m so ill.

Looking Glass (The Naturalist, #2) (Kindle)