The perils of procrastination

Last year I failed, by an ignominious week-and-a-half, to finish my father’s birthday gift of national costume stockings in time for the national day celebrations. Then, when I DID finish them, they turned out to be about five centimetres too short. Utterly defeated by my failure, I purchased another ball of yarn, then stuffed the stockings and the yarn into a ziplock bag and tried to forget about them. A few weeks ago I happened upon them and realised that, were my father to wear them for the 17th May celebrations this year, I’d have to hop to it. When I finally got started, the addition of five centimetres of ribbing at the top of each stocking took me exactly three leisurely afternoons. As you can tell from this picture, the addition was a truly minute amount of knitting:

I’m beginning to realise that my “lessons learnt” category really should have a question mark, because hope as I might that these stockings have taught me a thing or two about the perils of procrastination, I really have my doubts.


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