The night before we left for our traditional Easter camping trip to the mountains, Son #2 announced he needed a new woolly hat, preferably in green and red stripes. I scurried about and found a ball of green Noro, and paired it with the red worsted weight I dyed the other day (seen a couple of posts down, bottom row of the clotheshorse, second from left) and cast on so I'd have some car knitting and campfire knitting.
The Noro quickly turned brown and then blue, and when I'd finished (it's a Thorpe but without the earflaps because I didn't have the pattern with me, I just knitted until the bottom and then cast off) he announced at first it was 'awesome' and then the next day 'nope, too brightly coloured'. Teenagers today, so fussy. So it now belongs to the mister, and I have to start again. Additionally I have to rip back the edge of the Thorpedo-esque and add another inch so it's big enough for the adult sized head it will now adorn. Sigh ...
Anyway, knitting it kept me busy for the long car drive (through kilometre after kilometre of burnt charred desolate heartbreaking landscape) and for a couple of around-the-campfire evenings, and then I had to return to the purplish lacy socks, until I reached the short row heel and stalled. Cannot make sense of instructions. Have set aside in frustration and will concentrate on other things for a while. Like
This year we decided to camp off mountain in the hope it would be a smidge warmer, and thank god it was. Much more manageable. And it only rained the first two evenings (the first about 15 seconds after we'd got the tent up thankfully). The beauty of being off the mountain (atop Mt Buffalo is our usual Easter spot) in a pretty little village at the bottom famous for its autumn colour, was that we were able to drive up other mountains to have a look at them. Photos to come when I've done the big sort. Suffice to say we went to Mt Hotham and if anyone else has done the drive up Mt Hotham they'll know what I mean when I say SPECTACULAR DRIVE. Also in a fit of nostalgia we drove up to Falls Creek for the day to revisit the scene of Mr Soup's and my first meeting, 22 years ago oh-my-god this winter. It was quite odd, pottering about the Falls village, pointing out to our children where we had each lived and worked and first met, where so and so had worked, the scene of the Great Skiing Accident, the Medical Centre where I was patched and plastered, the lobby where I was sacked minutes after being plastered because a kitchen hand with one arm in plaster is useless, etc.
Ah, memories. Sweet.
Anyway, pretty mountain and autumn colour photos to come later when I have the energy.
PS. I've just re-read the last two Easter camping-at-Mt-Buffalo posts (here and here) and come over all nostalgic-like again. But jeez it was cold.