Hurrah! The WN has knitted a pair of mittens! Pray for snow, Dear Reader, in order that the world at large can cop a gander at them.
Oneself, however, is now half way through the production of one of those fair isle waistcoat jobbies that chaps favoured during WW2.
Knitting tips for this garment have been gleaned from the Knitting Daily website, that has become the religious text of preference in the Underground Lair.
The particularly oddly named ‘expert’ is Biggan Ryd-Upp, which doubles not only as a snigger inducing Monika, but a description of One’s pants.
Any road up having plodded manfully on with One’s waistcoat One was called out of the B by none other than the delicious Lovely Gordon, the prospective recipient of the aforementioned garment.
‘Oh I’d have to start smoking Woodbine and get some pigeons if I wear one of those,’ he amusingly chuntered.
ONE HAS PESPIRED PEARLS OVER THE PRODUCTION OF THE EFFING BLIGHTER
So, ‘twould appear that upon completion of said garment a man will have to be sought to fit into it.
With it’s current projected measurements the gentleman would have to be seven feet four, have exceptionally narrow shoulders and positively muscle bound upper arms.
The only prospective candidate One has encountered thus far is the Jolly Tall Well Spoken Elderly Gentleman, who went off in a huff some months ago.
So – when the item is sewn up and ready for use One will advertise upon the medium of electronic device …
WHOMSOEVER THIS WOOLY FITS – HE SHALL I MARRY