Every now and again i try to do something that proves I'm not a bad person. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm not a bad person anyway but everyone has doubts don't they? Dreams about letting out an angry, shouty tirade at your boss, making a comment about the receptionists new haircut, silently judging your friend for the latest guy she brought to the pub... These are not my own personal failings, of course, merely examples. Everyone does things like this and if you don't then you're the exception to the rule. There's a reason the phrase "you're only human" exists. As beings, we're flawed.
However, at the weekend i performed an act of knitting sainthood.
I recently knitted a good old pair of socks. These socks were dear to me. I bought the yarn at the Christmas Market in Ulm (Bavaria, Germany) in December and the yarn was so lovely it sent shivers down my spine. It was "only" Regia from their 6-ply World College Color series, so you could argue that it really wasn't anything that special, but it was soft, squishy and felt wonderful to knit plain socks with. I even loved the way the two socks matched perfectly. I tried them on, they were too big. I frogged back the toe and an inch of the length and re-knit. No way. They were too wide and too thick to wear with any of my shoes. Even after a hot wash in the washing machine, the superwash yarn thwarted me and refused to shrink. They were demoted to house socks.
I took them to a party at the weekend, expecting that if the host's house was a little chilly, they'd look better than getting my slippers out.
Said host tried them on and fell in love. On a whim, to be a better person i gave them away.
Alison's feet, in what are now Alison's socks. I'll graciously accept my medal now.