No Socks here, only scarves, and a feeling of impending doom

I think that it is still safe to say, I'm having issues (lets be nice and leave it at that) with these socks. I've tried tightening the stitches and still to no avail its still horribly loose (verging on criminally or morally ambiguous -not decided which yet).

I'm also wondering how sensible it is to make them for CGFB, he is notoriously and infamously hard on his socks. Actually since its me who has lost the sock (mysterious happening to say the least) why am I making him a pair? Or at least struggling with a pair? Tis a mystery. But I can happily record that he is delighted with the potential sockodile.

Anyway I'd just started on them when CGBF came thudding around the corner. He has massive heavy shoes and the sound just clatters and bangs kclump kclump kclump kclump kclump kclump throughout the house when he's in the hall (the downside of a wooden/something fake wooden floor). Its like The Terminator is wandering around. I keep expecting him to come into the livingroom/kitchen in the evenings and ask

'Ver ist mein tea, ver is mein socks, you said der was socks dat you made up for me* take off your shoozes, I vant to step on your toes. Ahhh, you haz zee croks on, I vill step on dem tooo. I vill step on dem and your toes while dey ares in dem. Why is zee livingroom filled with zee vool, zis alpaca it iz sticking to everyfing and iz floating. Arragggh der alpaca ist attacking me

*Note, this is true, but I didn't make them up for any nice reason, I made them up so I could use them as ammo and pelt him with them come the weekend while he's settled down and comfortable and I stand at the door. Ah yes, what fun filled days we have. Its all go here when your as easily amused as I am. I'd say we but he protested and gave me a look. where the look appears I do not go (typicially).
Rapid exit to safety once I run out of socks and he's very fast on his feet when the occasion merits it. Or once he starts firing them back, followed by half hour lurk in the bathroom. I have my book stash prepared so all and all the main problem is the fact my aim is an absolute horror. Whereas his isn't. He can be such an inconsiderate bugger, he catches them on route. Then whangs them back. Utterly unfair and discourteous. Terrible.
He also asks (tells) me to not do it, but my excuse (or defence) which is so obviously going to not only stand but takes precedence-I hear you laughing at that.
I maintain that it quickens his reflexes which now I come to think of it isn't wise. They are already rapid enough as it is. It also may someday, many many many years from now improve my aim. Abysmal doesn't cover.

I am currently knitting (ahem, trying to remember the pattern cos its been a long while abandoned) a rather light scarf in various shades of brown and tan. 100% Bamboo from Wendy and rather nice, really soft and squishy. I made Sardine (friend of CGBF, hello ) one a while back out of a different colourway. Pinks creams and peaches. I'm not a fan of pink but the colours looked better than I thought (espicially on her). So to summerise, there are no socks here. Only the menace of socks.

I have also decided based on my experiences over the past few months that I have a Bedmuda triangle in my flat. Think Bermuda, in my flat and instead of ships or planes, my pillowcases (6 approx) and double sized undersheets (3). They go missing, without a trace. This weekend I almost tore the place apart looking for them to no avail. Nothing to be found besides duvet covers (whose origin I'm sure I must be the cause of, buy why I felt the need for so many is a mystery of epic proportions). At the minute I have what is being used + 2 pillow cases and thats it. Which is obviously a major problem at the best of times only to be made worse because its currently Harr Season. For those of you who don't know, Harr is a thick sea mist that comes after a few days of nice weather during which you typicially forget to put a wash on. Then the crunch, its the weekend, up early (apres 7), strip half the bed and replace undersheet with a duvet instead. Roll CGBF over onto that side of the bed and strip the other half. In the confusion change 2 of the pillow cases and put them down.
Run through the house and get that wash on.
Take a minute to take a breath and have a glass of water. Peer through the tomato plants that are triffiding the kitchen window (bush ones ha hahahaha ha seriously). Haar. Everywhere. I can see 10 feet if I'm lucky and the black thing out there is a railing instead of wistful thinking.
The chances of anything dry and fresh getting onto my bed (besides one of us just dried and out of the shower) is about as likely as a mountain Gorilla turning around to David Attenborough (wonders if anyone else hears that Halleluiah chorus there?) and asking "I say old boy, you wouldn't happen to have some tomato sauce I could have to put on these here leaves, they get horribly bland after a time. The same old same old I have to say. None of that cheap saver price stuff mind you, just because they tell me or should I say that funny coloured paper that I get delivered by that strangle little thing down the road tells me there is a recession on does not mean you should let standards slip? No? not a drop, well then I'm sure you won't mind my lady testing your saliva then? She's dreadfully keen on the stuff and although we tell her that the sugar is bad for her she just refuses to listen. That's it old chap, sit still and don't squirm".

Where was I? (Prologue again, actually I've been rather good when it comes to diversions today). Ahh yes, Harr. Well I did get it dry when the wind got up but it was a rather tense few hours. But where has the rest of my stuff gone? I have single undersheets (and oc-incidentially no single bed) but double ones are non existent. As are the missing pillow cases.

The Birds
The haar also resulted in one of the most One-of-a-Kind-experiences last week. I was walking/limping (having sprained my ankle quite badly a few days previously) along a really quiet back road to my work. No one in sight and not a sound besides my Ipod. The Gael from The Last of the Mohicans came on (Promentory). The haar was really thick, all sound was muffled besides the single loud drum beat every few steps. Dum,(feeling of potential impending doom starts here) dum, dum, kwaack, dum, kwaackkwackdumkwackkwack dum kwawo. The seagulls nesting on the nearby buildings on both sides had taken umbrage to my presence (can't imagine why I'm typicially inoffense) the calls of get away from my child(rem) interspersing the drum. The volume and quantity of calls was rapidly increasing. Drums, and gulls and my own footsteps and the soft, swoosh noise of a gull suddenly appearing and passing just above my head as the pipes started.

It was like a scene from the birds. I was really relieved to get out of there (safety, shelter and buiscuits) and into a more open area. For not only are the mob gulls dangerous at best, but they were a rare subspecies of gull that only lives in the area around Aberdeen. A much larger (over a foot tall) subspecies that mobs humans. I kid you not for I have seen it and not it occurs to me experienced a much milder version. Oooh it was a few days since I walked to work that way, even if it meant playing dodge the lorry in the Haar.

Attacked by tomatoes. My second dose of potential impending doomage
I'm being serious here, I was attacked by our tomato plants that live on our kitchen window. I was boiling the kettle (i don't know if these little details help, do they?) and basicially vegetating in the corner until the kettle had boiled. I heard, a russle and a large quantity of tomato vegetation came swiping down just behind me. They brushed me, they were that close. The handle of the window maybe threw them off their hunt. I realised I was almost trapped, wall, worktop and tomatoes (the latter on two sides). Having cussed and stuffed them back behind the handle I exhaled and relaxed, then promptly got nearly landed on again. Then I got CGBF to come and tie it up. Hahahahaha their trapped tomiffids now.

Well thats me slightly blathered out.
Here is a thought for the day, since you can get chicken soup for the soul and get the wrong end of the stick.... Surely you can get pizza for the soul or roving? Keeping with the pizza option, part of my soul is in my thighs, so by eating pizza I'm feeding my soul. No? well roving is calorie free (espicially when you consider that the chinese in the village where I grew up was quite strangely called the calorie chinese! ).

Have a fun evening everyone whatever your doing

Does Random count as a tag?