Yarn of Maximum Pinkness

I try to avoid the classic knitblog cat shots. I know I live in a grotty attic with three resident felines and a spinning wheel. I prefer to allow the rest of the world to imagine otherwise. Pong, however, has other ideas, and he will not be denied. The merest whisper of a camera lens and he's out menacing the wool.


I resolve to work round him.


I give up.


I put the precious yarn in what I deludedly believe is a place of safety.


I think calm thoughts of Newcastle.