+JMJ+

(In which I say goodbye)

I'm going to miss this blog. There are still so many things to write about, such as something I've realised about work and the special twist I'm hoping to put on my Victorian Valentine costume. (Oooooh! ) Maybe in another life?

Yet there is one thing I have to say before I go. It's about my grandmother.

This blog has taken her to task on many things--and while I've tried to be fair, I've also been harsh. So I'd like to say one wonderful thing about her.

She crochets. A lot.

Last week, I tried to crochet a saddle blanket for Custard. Nothing fancy--a glorified mat, if anything. It has been several days and I have nothing to show for it that wouldn't insult his fuzzy, stuffed heart.

On the other hand, my grandmother can crochet anything. She has a spread on her queen-sized bed that she made all by herself, dozens of Christmas-coloured coasters that she whips out to sell when the season is right, and cigarette and mobile phone holders for her own use and pleasure. She'll make you a holder of your own; just give her your mobile for a few seconds so she can measure it.

One thing I've learned is that people who crochet must be very patient--with others. Let's say you are making something forty-two links long. Every row has to have forty-two links, so you have to count as you go and be willing to undo a whole row if the number doesn't add up. I'm not a good counter; I get too distracted: so I've snapped at people several times for making me lose count and have to start over. (Not that I produce better stitches in solitude.)

Well, in all the decades I've known my grandmother to have a crochet hook in her hand, I have never heard her snap at anyone for that--and I'd bet my life that I've provided a million different distractions that made her lose count. Oh, she'll snap readily for other reasons, but not for the one you'd think would give her the easiest excuse.

I never thought I'd call her patient and disciplined, but apparently, she has her moments. As do we all.