And I hate everything about you

Readers, this is a very serious post. I need to warn you.

It is possible that you may be sitting around one day without anything immediate to fill up the part of your brain that deals with urgent issues. Perhaps the bath is not leaking for a change and you do not have to regrout it. Perhaps Partner (or, your equivalent) has not got flu/ a phishing email that is confusing him/ something he wants to tell you about a realisation he has had about literary intertextuality. Perhaps the state of the house would not actually cause the man who reads the gas meter, should he perchance call by, to inform the council, so, you do not need to clean it. Perhaps you have sorted out peace in the Middle East, the Greek Default, and have already told Mr Cameron not to be so silly re: NHS reform.

At such a dangerous moment, the following thought may pop into your head: what I need to do, you may think, is, start knitting a cardigan in laceweight yarn. I know! I shall use Noro Sekku! Then my cardigan will cause people in the street to stop, throw their hands up, and say the following: gosh, is that a handknitted cardigan or is it actually Vintage Missoni which may have cost in the region of £450? My goodness, by knitting that cardigan not only have you astonished me with an innovative and quirky yarn/ pattern combination, you have assisted in the reclamation of knitting as a cool thing and not something only partaken in by 45-year-old virgins with too many cats [actually that sounds kind of attractive as a lifestyle to me, does it to you?].

Do not do it. NORO SEKKU IS ABSOLUTELY AWFUL. Look, I try to be nice and constructive on this blog, but, truthfully: it is unusable. It is overspun (apart from the bits that are not spun at all). Parts of it come apart in your hands. It has knots. It sticks to itself and knots up and you have to unravel it all the bloody time. If your hands are at all rough (and look. It is February), you have no chance at all. If you have bought a skein, I would advise you to do the following: dig a large hole in your garden, bury it, come inside and drink gin. Or, use it to tie your tomatoes to stakes. Me, I shall be finishing my cardigan as I am a masochist. But you, readers, you still have a chance: you can save yourselves. Put down the stripy laceweight yarn. Put it down and walk away slowly. I would rather watch a Loose Women marathon on TV than ever use this yarn again. And do you know what? You can actually buy Loose Women DVDs! I have seen them in Poundland! (But: don’t buy one of those either).