Agatha Christie, a duck, and nightshift knitting
I’m still working so much I’m not sure of my own age (I told someone I was 43, when I’m 42) and with all the heat simmering my brain until soft(er), I actually wrote my old married name the other day when signing for something. But, three good things are –
I saw these on Twitter and immediately ordered one from the House of Commons gift shop, because what’s the point of working a 60 hour week if you can’t treat yourself to a duck, amirite?? Emmerduck Quackhurst hasn’t got much traction so far explaining equal rights to the cat, but give her time…
Secondly, while I’m captive at work at night, and with no wifi, I have started knitting a Fairisle tank top, as it literally has my name on it. I’m getting into home-knits at the moment as I’m starting to dress like I work at Bletchley, which could be because I’m reading a lot of Agatha Christie and watching a lot of Foyles War. The only thing with Fairisle at night is one tired mistake and can echo through many rows, and I have done a mammoth amount of unpicking. And yet I still have the wrong amount of stitches as I’ve messed up the shaping, and there’s going to a mistake in the design to any eagle-eyed people I meet, but what’s four stitches and one wee slightly dodgy flower between friends?
And finally, I’ve finished Postern of Fate, a Tommy and Tuppence. Not the most riveting of the series, as they are both in their seventies and unlike Marple or Poirot, neither has the cutting intelligence to make up for the lack of action, so it’s got a The Glucosamine Files or Joint Pain, She Wrote feel to it. However, it was entertaining enough and contained the awesome lines –
‘I could carry a flick knife.’ said Tuppence.
‘I shouldn’t carry anything at all’ said Tommy. ‘I should just go about looking innocent and talking about gardening.’
Words to live by!