I've blogged about my bedspread before, which I started about 2 years ago having sorted my stash and realised that the situation was getting out of control:
It was (and pretty much remains) my only crochet project - nothing like starting with something small. Here it is in the early days with the now {sadly} deceased Deidre:
Each row is crocheted back and forth and it takes me an evening to do one row. It also takes quite a lot of yarn to crochet one row (it reaches from floor to floor over our king sized bed) so can only be worked with almost full balls from the stash - clearly I had quite a few of these. Here it is in situ in October last year:
Since then it has grown some more:
and requires just a few more rows to reach right up to the top of the bed.
Yesterday, the builder finishing our bathroom floor decided to use our bed as a work bench (despite the obvious application of a dust sheet and the fact that it was a glorious day and any normal, sensible person would have considered doing all their sawing outside). In the process of cutting up hardboard to cover the floor prior to the laying of the vinyl on Monday he managed to slice through a small piece of my blanket (and the dust sheet) - going through 2 colours, of course - and covering our entire bedroom in a layer of cloying dust.
I found the hole this morning.
I nearly wept. I shouted a lot. I may have, inadvertently, cursed the entire male species in my fury. I definitely accused all men of being careless, thoughtless and disrespectful. I think I might have lost it (whatever "it" is) for a while.
I have now found some (almost) matching wool to repair the hole tonight.
On the plus side, FB is spending the whole of this afternoon (whilst I'm in the shop) dusting, washing down and hoovering our bedroom; thereby proving that not all men are thoughtless.
Thanks FB, for restoring my faith and (some) of my sanity.
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