After a summer without much sock knitting (too hot for socks!) I've finally got round to finishing some of the things I started before the temperature rose. I put an end to the monkeying around (I'm here all week, folks!) with these:
(sorry about the blue-ish light, the sunlight isn't reaching my room today!)
and I managed to finish a pair of Green River socks which I started a while back. A bit of a complicated pattern for my little knitting brain to get its neurons round, but I seemed to get on okay. Until this happened.
I was sure I'd remember how many pattern repeats I'd done on the first sock. So confident, in fact, that I failed to keep a note. Well! Keeping a note is boringly efficient! I always lose the paper the note is written on, and then when I inevitably leave the near-finished pair of socks in a dusty corner for six months, they don't know how many repeats they have either.
So I have a pair of great socks for walking the dog. Hidden in wellies they'll be okay. Moral of this story: a rolling stone gathers nine stitches in a watched pot boiling. I think. I have it written on a piece of paper somewhere, hang on!