But back to the point; I'm emigrating. Sounds terribly 19th-century, like I'm packing up the Highland croft, bundling together my worldly possessions in a woolen blanket before getting on a boat for four months and landing on the other side of the planet.
Change "Highland croft" to "flat in Hackney that housed an embarrassment of stuff" and "four months on a boat" to "three seven-hour flights" and it's pretty much an identical experience. Really.
This is happening for all the usual and rational reasons that seem to gain currency once one has progeny. More space, more sunshine, good education, better lifestyle choices (what on earth is a "lifestyle choice"?!) and the chance that said progeny will do exceptionally well in any sport other than darts.
The brain is totally on board with all of this. Of course. Which brain wouldn't be? Shame the heart hasn't got the memo yet.
But enough of the self-indulgent doubt. Let's focus on the important stuff... what will I be making enroute and when we first arrive amidst the chaos of finding a house, a job, a car and a new life?
I am prepared with bamboo hooks and needles. Less chance of getting stopped by security as a potential garroter of pilots with metal circular needles. But what of the yarn?
As we're leaving a Northern Hemisphere winter (albeit a soggy and mild one) to a Southern Hemisphere summer (did you see the frighteningly hot 40+ degree in Melbourne last week?) methinks the 16 balls of Rowan Cocoon - a lovely merino and mohair mix in a chunky yarn - intended for a crocheted blanket by Erika Knight, might be a bit much.
Actually, I feel a bit hot and bothered just thinking about it. Good thing I've got some Noro Aya, a combo of cotton, silk and a touch of wool with which I'll make a cardigan for the cherub. Those air conditioned rooms can get a bit chilly.
|Scruffy looking balls of Noro Aya.|
|Twisty wierdness with the Noro Aya. Any thoughts on why?|
|We have lift off with the Tiny Tea Leaves Cardi.|
|Squishy, squashy balls of Rowan Handknit.|
Because I need more bunting in my life. And I don't want your bog standard triangular variety, oh no. I want curious crocheted floral astral bunting like wot I saw in Simply Crochet Issue 13.
Only once hung decorously over furniture wot we do not own yet, will the new Antipodean gaff - once we've found a gaff - start becoming home. Hopefully.
(Images: Zoë F. Willis)