Monday, June 22, 2015

What a clanger!

With my newly-remembered knitting talent, when I saw the headline on the BBC website, Knit your own Clanger, I thought, 'Yes! My next project.'

Then I visited the page and read the instructions. They began:
Techniques I-cord: To make an i-cord, cast on your sts using double pointed needles, knit the sts and slide them to the other end of the same needle, pull the yarn tightly across the back of the sts and knit the sts again.

Now I come to think of it I haven't actually finished my first project yet ...

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I visited the doctor this morning (for some time I've been thinking I have something in my throat - the doctor diagnosed it as Globus Hystericus i.e. I'm loopy) and had a long wait. Something odd definitely happens in a doctor's waiting room: time passes differently. Everyone else is in with the doctor for an hour; I'm in there for 5 minutes. But my real grizzle is about the decision to no longer have magazines in the waiting room. It's the only practice I've visited that obeys this ruling and as the only chance I get to read magazines is in waiting rooms or the hairdresser's I think it's most unfair of them.

Besides, without magazines to read I am forced to study every poster on the wall and by the time I get in to see the doctor I have developed at least another four different ailments.

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On a lighter note it struck me that I would hate to die without ever having worn red high heels. 

Admittedly  when I do wear anything approaching a smart shoe I quickly take them off for the pain and discomfort they cause. And as I never wear heels I would undoubtedly fall off. But I think my next project must be to find some in a charity shop and wear them. Just once.

And on an even lighter note, when I was on the trampoline with the grandchildren yesterday my boob bounced clean out of my bra. I should not be let out alone.

On the other hand I didn't fall in the swimming pool as George did when he was trying to get away from Husband and the mower.

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Our garden is looking very lovely at the moment. I can take no credit for this; Husband does all the work. My job is to admire it.


nick said...

I'm the gardener in our household too. And Jenny regularly admires my handiwork, which is gratifying.

Plenty of magazines to read at my health centre, but nevertheless a ten-minute wait usually convinces me the diagnosis for my symptoms will be horrific.

About time the grandchildren discovered that escaping boobs are actually a quite common occurrence. If they don't know already, that is.

Liz Hinds said...

I think the grandchildren probably have, Nick. GrandSon2 often pokes me and says boobies, and giggles. I blame the grandparents.