It may come as a surprise to you that I only picked up a crochet hook for the first time in April this year. It’s now August. I’ll let you do the maths.
Of course, I didn’t call it a crochet hook back then. I called it a crochet ‘needle’. And what I actually made with that needle could hardly be called crochet.
Luckily, I persisted and soon branched out into crocheting small woollen anuses. At least that’s what my partner thought they were. In my defence, I was just trying to master The Magic Ring – a defence which, now I think about it, really didn’t help matters in the slightest.
I kept making anuses and granny
squares trapeziums until this happened:
It was at this grave juncture that I pushed all talk of needles aside and bought a proper hook that must have been forged from the tears of angels, such was the gravity of its price tag.
And now here I am, [you do the maths] months later, 131 squares into a Forever Blanket and writing a craft blog. Let us pause for a moment while you go back and actually do the maths.
Of course, there may come a day where we all wish I’d kept my rectal hook and woollen anuses to myself. I’d like to think TODAY IS NOT THIS DAY (*charges, rectal hook drawn, towards the BlackGate with a whole heap of men with plaited beards*).