I hardly dare say it

but the blue wraps are done. I have clawed my way, by sheer force of will, out of the black hole and back into the land of the living. There are no pictures of this feat - I have flung the items far, far from my body and hope never to see them again. In fact, I shall have to see them again because I need to darn in the ends, wash and possibly block them. Consultation with the bride (or her mother) will be needed. Many, many thanks for all your words of encouragement - I couldn't have done it without you.

If you think knitting a shawl every two weeks for twelve weeks is bad, spare a thought for Stephanie, who is busy knitting a sock a day - for quite how long I'm not sure as my flittering about in cyberspace has been severely curtailed by warping of the space/time continuum and my being sucked into a black hole.

I feel like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Slowly unfurling my wings, I look about me tentatively. Suddenly, I soar into the air, which is code-speak for "I'm at last knitting something other than blue fluff and isn't it flying off the needles?"

I'm over halfway through the fluffy blue scarf for #1 daughter's friend:



I'm using the Zig-Pattern (click on "Scarves" and it's P57, if you want a closer look) from Artyarns, purely to stop myself running screaming from the room, as I surely would if I had to do the whole thing in back and forth garter stitch. It is blue, after all.

I've used up one whole ball of Kidsilk Night (with the sparkles) on the black Frost and Ice shawl:



Seen here, in a not very good picture, languishing on a tree in the garden.

The more I take photographs, the more admiration I have for professional photographers, and the more I understand their need for great big lights on tripods, for white umbrellas, for white tents (large and small). The way they always seem to have their bodies slung with spare cameras and lenses like Mexican bandits (no offence to any Mexicans reading - don't start) always used to puzzle me. No longer. I have every respect for anyone who can take a photograph of a black sparkly part-shawl, in an overgrown garden, in a high wind, on a dull day in Warwickshire. The photograph above bears witness to the fact that they are the professionals, not I.

Anyway, the black Frost and Ice. The knitting is simplicity itself; the yarn is still as scratchy (technical term). I'm hoping it will soften in the washing/blocking process. We shall see.

I'm also making a scarf from a pattern in a Louisa Harding book ("The Accessories Collection") using two balls of her "Impression" yarn and one of her "Kimono Ribbon":



Mine is green, however and I don't suppose I shall look like her when I'm wearing it, but miracles are not to be expected.

There's no picture of it at the moment, since I am lacking the white umbrella, the white tent and the lights on tripods.

See the little pom-poms at the bottom? I'm going to make those before I start with the second ball of Impression, so I can continue knitting until I run out of yarn. To that end, I have borrowed a pair of compasses from #1 son, rescued an empty cereal packet and got my pencil and scissors ready. #1 daughter asked what I was doing and when I replied, "Getting ready to make pom-poms." she looked puzzled and asked, "Is it something to eat?" Oh dear.

Beelzebub? Beelzebub has taken up residence on the bread maker:



and seemed quite content until the other evening when I heard strange noises from the kitchen. On investigation, I spotted a pair of bright eyes lurking in the dark recess beside the Rayburn and unearthed another cat.

#1 daughter thought it might be Beelzebub's "pal". Pal my ar*e, as Jim Royle might well say, "Toy boy", I say.

Any advice as to how to stop my kitchen becoming the knocking shop for the local feline population will be gratefully received.