Bless his little cotton socks.

Having myeloma is a bit like having a puppy. After three weeks of cleaning up after it, you can no longer remember what life was like before it. (Not that Mike has been making a mess, I gather that comes later!)

Someone kindly suggested I take up knitting to keep my mind off the aforementioned illness. So out came the bag of needles I inherited from my nan. An assortment of needles gathered over years of knitting jumpers, cardies, blankets, shawls, tea cosies and various toys. The biggest problem was trying to find the correct size. 12's the thickness of a cocktail stick or my little finger and everything in between. Eventually with the help of the Internet I managed to sort them out. My next problem was lack of yarn, until I remembered the crochet cotton I had bought on a whim. (I was going to crochet myself a little bolero/cardigan thing, but never really got started.) So I'm now in the process of knitting cotton socks, I've already got my daughters ordering knee highs! (For some reason the men in my life don't fancy cream glittery socks!)