Sometimes, when you’re making something, you’re really not sure that you’re going to like it.
That’s how it was with this blanket. I started making squares in a spirit of pure desperation, the day I’d been told I had to sit with my foot up for four more weeks.
I made dozens of the little buggers, as a distraction from pain, tedium and frustration. I couldn’t see how the ragbag mishmash of colours was ever going to come together.
Then on Friday morning, I chucked the bag of squares onto the living room floor, and started arranging, and rearranging, and something magical happened.
Now the only trouble is that it’s for a present, and I’m secretly coveting it. But I don’t ever want another month of sitting around to drive me to make another one.