… of mice and men, are nothing when faced with the Italian post service and, more generally, with the wilds of Astigianistan.
So, the plan was to start in February and learn a new skill – following the suggestions of my followers and an accurate research, I decided to try my hand at knitting. Simple, cheap, relaxing, and at the end you have a pair of socks, or a scarf, or something to show.
Nice and smooth.
Or so it seemed.
First – the local (8 kms away) haberdashery shop is closed due to COVID. If I want to buy needles and yarn, I have to go somewhere else, which at the current state of affairs is not possible because… COVID. There’s no way I’ll take a bus (should it stop here, which is not a given) and then a train, to go somewhere looking for a shop where I can buy some wool yarn and a pair of knitting needles.
And yes, my grandmother had a panoply of knitting needles and other accessories, but of course my father gave it all away when she died, so there.
So, what now?
Mail order, of course.
Amazon has some wonderful all-in-one knitting starter sets that will set you back fifty bucks – a little too much for an experiment, a personal challenge, a lark, basically, that might turn into nothing.
But looking around you can find a solid pair of wooden needles for about five bucks (cursing inwardly the freeloaders that got my grandmother’s fifty bucks-worth of high-end aluminum needles), and buy three bundles of good-quality Japanese wool yarn, navy blue, for about eight bucks including shipping. Fine.
Then you sit and wait.
And now’s three days to the start of my challenge, and my wool is somewhere between here and Samarkand or parts east, and will arrive “between February the 3rd and March the 19th”, and the needles simply vanished. They will refund my credit card.
So here we are – the clock is ticking, the hardware is missing, and I’ll probably have to find something else to learn in February, and postpone my knitting adventure to a later date.