I am almost too ashamed to admit this, dear readers, but I have spent the last hour or so indulging in a very dubious habit indeed. After last night’s little foray into crochet, things have gone rapidly down hill.
Crochet and I have a long and chequered history. I made this blanket when I was at university (yeah, I really was the coolest kid on the block…) It’s still in use on our bed, in all its acrylic glory (students have no yarn budget, it was made of everyone else’s leftovers.) Granny squares are soothingly repetitive: they require little skill, and even less brain.
The kids have similar blankets too. One each, in nicer yarns, with better designed colour schemes, but still the same old basic granny squares.
Because I have always been scared by crochet patterns, so I’ve avoided them, but lately I’ve been lured in by pretty pretty blankets, so I decided to overcome my fears. Yesterday, I produced this little quartet of Summer Garden squares by Attic24 (if you think you might be even remotely weak willed on the matter of crochet, Do Not Look At Her Blog…)
This evening, I sat down after chasing the younger two to bed, and instead of picking up knitting needles, as is my wont, my hand strayed back to the hook (please admire how I have not yet made a single hooker joke in this blog post…)
I made this little Flowers in the Snow square.
Then moved rapidly (must.feed.the.addiction.) onto this joyous hexagon. At this point, the monologue in my head was going something like this: you can crochet hexagons? hexagons are cool… you love hexagons… they tessellate… it would be like woolly patchwork… you need to spend the rest of your life crocheting teeny tiny coloured hexagons… sleep is optional, only hexagons matter…
It’s all a bit of a worry. I think I need to calm down and breathe slowly. Whilst browsing crocheted blanket patterns…