And so, after lots of evenings filled with just one more row before bed, I've finished the squid which went from "baby" to "giant" to "does this ever end?" to "colossal". Decidedly colossal. He (?) now lives on my bookshelf, between my filing-that-is-waiting-to-be-done and my paintbrushes. A good spot.

Oh, it's not that big. 53cm. How funny that the colours change as the sun rises and peeps in through the windows. 

It's knit and natter night tonight (details here for anyone in East London - or within traveling distance!) and I haven't got anything on my needles. Uh oh. I've ordered a knitty book from the library, but it's not here yet. Perhaps it's time to start stockpiling on baby gifts for the oodles of babies due in February - another set of twins, some far-away little ones, somebody else having boys. Boys. Notoriously difficult knitty recipients. 

Once more unto the breach, it seems.