Soundtrack: The Chiffons - One Fine Day
So that was quite a long weekend containing some fun but mainly illness. On my birthday Thom and I fled to Brighton for the day (the prevalent mist may or may not have exasperated my cold). The day was filled with sock knitting in the car, the Best. Lunch. Ever. at the Hop Poles, spending my record shopping budget down the Lanes and then crying when finding the most amazing psyche/acid folk record shop down the North Lanes but having no money left.
Whilst on North Lanes I walked past a shop and did a double-take - I had found a HABERDASHERY. I walked in. I gasped in horror. All the yarns were pastels or illuminous - not that I could even get near to the shelves with the boxes and bags on the floor. I was terrified and turned to go, whereupon the knitting shopkeeper (complete with beard) accosted me, looked me up and down, and with undertones of 'YOU're not loCAL' exclaimed 'Can I hELp you?'
'Err, I was just looking around, to see... err, sock yarn... err...'
'NO one knits SOCKS anymore!' [laughs maniacally]
Thom and I ran off in the vague direction of the sea. We found the Brighton coastline after an hour of running and looking over our shoulder (we didn't want to be special stuff). Despite Brighton Pier being shut, there was one place of refuge open for hot chocolate. It was a fun day, and well worth driving through torrential rain for.
On Thursday we drove into London to do some band recording. With 4hrs of driving and a 7hour session, I was armed with my sock knitting. Except - OH NO - I had lost the row counter. I was on row ? of knitting the foot of my sock. Where did I last have my knitting? Ah, in the front passenger seat.
'Dan, is my row counter in the glove compartment?'
'What does it look like?'
'A small blue cylinder with 2 numbers on'
'Nah, can't find it'.
And that was that. We drove around 900miles that weekend, and I was out of the house until Sunday. I was bitter all weekend, knowing I could probably have finished the bloody pair of socks by then, and smarting at the lost knitting time. Naturally, I found the row counter in the glove compartment on Monday night. Don't ever ask a man to look for lost knitting components.
The rest of the weekend was spent in Rochdale and Hertfordshire being very poorly. My dad took Thom and I out for a bracing walk along the Whitworth Moors on Friday morning; I was armed with earache and bogroll, but it was a lovely morning with some beautiful scenery. The walk obviously set me up nicely for the houseparty I went to on Saturday night - with a burning temperature I claimed my space on the floor in the corner of the room and went to bed at 9.30 whilst everyone else sang karaoke around me.