Tis stupid in many ways. The knitted pieces are no more than 15 cm square so at 38 cm, these needles are excessively long for the project in hand. But I only own one pair of 4.5mm needles, and they’re lovely to knit with, so why do I need more? Because, if I use these, right now, where I am, they will most definitely encroach into my neighbour’s personal space. And although I believe that accidental prodding with a needle (even one made from beautiful birch) isn’t a crime (yet!), it is annoying. Especially if it happens more than once. Confined into the window seat of the train, I can’t really go anywhere else (and I should be grateful to even have a seat at rush hour) so this is me: Hugging my knitting in its bag on my lap. Not the most efficient way to knit through the rows.
My mind wanders to some of the other projects that I could have brought, perhaps should have done. For instance, those smart yet (cash)soft gloves that I’m knitting for Husband. Dpns are very well trained to stay in one’s own lap and, requiring one ball of yarn per glove, are very small and portable. Even the pattern is printed on a single project sheet – rather than as part of a book compilation – increasing its potential for travels. Problem is, pattern and yarn have become temporarily separated and, just 30 mins before train departure, that reunion was unlikely.
Then there are my emergency socks. Emergency Knitting Project, that is – the socks clearly aren’t as they’ve probably been “on the go” longer than Husband’s Jumper. (But that’s because they normally live the glove compartment of the car – who’d risk a car journey sans knitting?) Also dpns, also single ball of yarn, also single pattern sheet, also not here.
I start to feel more than slightly despondent as I recollect all the knitting that I could have been doing for these last precious 45 mins. And I fear that many more minutes will be added to these 45 if the pattern of cramped, rush-hour trains continues. But I am soon distracted as it’s time to change trains. And with it my luck: Train Two leaves at the same platform as Train One arrived, so no mad scramble up and down stairs. For rush-hour, Train Two is eerily quiet but it is soon apparent why: Reports of worsening weather conditions are preventing trains travelling as far north and west as they normally do and it seems anxious passengers have abandoned their travel plans.
One of only a handful of passengers in the carriage, I settle down into my seat. With a hot cup of tea to hand and yarn spilling from my lap into Knitting Bag, perched lazily beside me, I knit, watching a winter-like night-time fall with each mile we cover. I’m on my way home, and so long as the yarn doesn’t run out and that tea is available through the delays, this train trip is looking good.