I took the above photo on Friday, preparatory to making a bubbly progress post to delight and entertain you. See it there? Forty-nine rounds in, just about to divide for front and back. Get a good look at it, my dears, while you can.
I ripped it all out.
It was about 20 stitches too big. I’m not sure if my tension is different working in the round (my swatch was back and forth), or if I somehow changed needles between swatch and cast-on (not impossible: things are pretty crazy around here at the moment), or if I simply have a lot to learn about negative ease (entirely plausible).
“It’s all wrong,” I said to Niall. “I’ll have to rip it out again.” For alas, this was not the first time. My first cast-on was based on a sloppy measurement, and when I rechecked it I ripped out the first ten rounds. My second cast-on was made through a bleary haze of exhaustion, and I twisted the bloody thing and started knitting a Möbius strip. That was only about four rounds long before I ripped.
Not like this time. Forty-nine rounds, I tell you. I felt each stitch unravel as though it were tangled around my guts. Niall was slightly astonished that I went through with it. “I didn’t think you’d rip it out,” he said. “I thought you might just, like, eat loads, or something.”
But I’ve been making clothes for long enough to know that if I’m not satisfied with something, I. Will. Not. Wear. It. With the best will in the world, it’ll simply lurk in my wardrobe until the end of time, making me feel sad whenever I catch sight of it. In the face of that, forty-nine rounds doesn’t seem so bad.
Fortunately, I’m persistent, and I’m going to knit this thing if it kills me (with long knives, in the town square, getting blood all over my toga, to extend my conceit just a little further).
To add insult to injury, I’m using the magic loop technique this time around, which is a little absurd for something this big, but taking off 24 stitches (for the pattern it had to be a multiple of eight) brought me down below the manageable round length for my 100cm Addi Turbos. At least it also means I’ll get through those forty-nine blasted rounds a little more quickly.
It’s pleasing me, at the moment, that I’ll be able to look at my purple thing (which will be glorious, I decree) and know that this is probably the most thoroughly knit yarn in my entire collection. (As you may recall, it started out as a scarf.) One takes one’s comfort where one can.
On that point, actually, the Louet Riverstone has held up amazingly well to the repeated knitting and ripping it’s endured. If you’re going to make a spectacular series of blunders, it’s a good yarn to choose!