Knitwits Yarns knitwitspenzance.co.uk
Youngest prodigal son returned from Canada last week, trashed the house, filled the wash basket with filthy clothes, ate all the food we could throw at him, slept in his own bed for 3 nights before disappearing off for a long weekend on Dartmoor, training for Ten Tors.
He and is fellow lads (perhaps that should read "lunatics") are attempting the 55 mile route this year (I say "attempting" because, with the best will in the world, 55 miles over 10 Tors between 8am on Saturday and 5pm on Sunday, carrying all your kit including tent, food and cooker is a MASSIVE ask.)
This weekend, between the hours of 8am on Friday and 4pm on Saturday, they completed no less than 60 miles (they walked until 11pm on Friday).
He is exhausted.
He had had such bad cramps in his tent they woke him up.
He is jubilant, sore, blistered and very, very happy.
He was not quite so happy at the idea of cycling to the bus this morning so his father, very generously, offered my services to drive him (and his brother) to the bus this morning.
OK - I thought - that's fine - up at 6.30, wash hair and ablute, leave the house at 7.30, back in by 8.00. Great - get the Rialto Lace blocked and drying on the Aga and get on with my day.
All went well, Rialto Lace was pinned out on the Aga by 9.20, 3 hours to do my work.
Then I blinked and it was 12.30.
Where did my 3 hours go? Did I do all the work I wanted/needed to do? No.
Did I do some of it? Yes - but no nearly enough.
Could someone please return my missing 3 hours from this morning.
I need them.