A few weeks ago, one of the pairs of socks that I knitted developed holes in the heels. I wasn't too outraged (they do get a lot of wear, after all) until I came across this blog post, and realised I only darned them back in March. At the time, I was grumpy that they'd only lasted six months before needing to be darned - and now they've only lasted another six before the darning needle had to come out again. 

You can see that my original darning is still there (in darker purple) so it's just another bit of knitting that has worn through. Soon these socks are going to be entirely made of darned bits. 

My other pair of hand knitted socks haven't developed a single hole, and I've had them for much longer. They're a slightly larger fit so perhaps they rub less, and they're also a different type of wool, which I suppose might be stronger.

Well, no use getting grumpy about it - instead I got out the darning needle and some purple wool (probably in the same place I left it after my last darning experience). I don't have a darning mushroom (and if I did, I imagine it would be packed away in a box by now anyway) so I used the closest thing I had to hand that was vaguely the right shape - an old cricket ball. 

This is probably the most useful thing it's ever done. 

I'm not sure whether I darn in the 'right' way. I don't think anyone ever showed me. I know you have to kind of weave new fabric over the hole so that's what I did, first one way, then weaving through in the other direction. Eventually the hole wasn't a hole any more. 

Hardly perfect, but given the socks seem determined to disintegrate within another few months anyway, it'll do. 

While I was on a mending mission, I sewed up the pocket on my coat, which I'd caught on a trolley in a shop a few weeks before. 

This was an awkward mend, as I'd basically ripped the pocket off, and in the process ripped the fabric the pocket attaches to as well. However, a bit of invisible thread seems to have done the trick, and so far my mending is holding up nicely, even with the amount I'm shoving my hands in my pockets now the cooler weather has arrived.

I like a bit of mending. It make me feel useful and practical - two things which I like very much. It also gives me a feeling of creativity, without actually having to create anything. Peter said the other day that a lot of his jackets are missing buttons, and while I don't consider it my job to sew them back on, I think once we move into our new house, we might have a joint button-sewing evening in front of the fire one night. 

Speaking of the new house... it's now nearly eleven weeks since we had our offer accepted. It feels like twenty years, and also feels like we will never move. I'm informed this week will bring some news... but I confess I'm not holding my breath. This is the first time I've either bought or sold a house - we are doing both simultaneously, and have vowed never to do either again. 

In the meantime, here's a picture of one of our fields (fingers crossed). A cheery farmer came bouncing down the drive on a tractor looking for his cows just after I took this. The gates are all open at the minute, so I can only assume they just wandered in, thinking the grass was greener over here. 

And no, I'm still not sure what we're going to do with all that grass. It's hard to make too many plans when things are still all up in the air. Right now I think the simplest thing would be to leave the gates open and let the neighbour's cows munch on it... 

A couple of weeks ago I went on an organised bike ride with a load of other women one Sunday morning. We gathered in the town centre and cycled out along the river to a nature reserve. 

In fact, we passed through two other nature reserves before we got to our final destination, which I was rather excited about as I remembered I had a plan (a long time ago) to visit all the Sheffield Wildlife Trust nature reserves, and I only ever made it to six - the last being in 2015. I'm pretty sure there were only eleven when I started, and it seems there are now thirteen. 

This is cheating slightly, as we only really skirted the edge of Blackburn Meadows, but I'm still claiming it. We also cycled through Salmon Pastures, the smallest of the Sheffield Wildlife Trust reserves (I've cycled through there before). 

Our final destination was the Centenary Riverside reserve, number eight on my list. It's on the site of a former steelworks, and you can see more pictures of the development of the site if you click the link. Apparently at one time during the war they used an ex circus elephant to haul steel around the site. 

It was a bit of a grey day, and apparently the site looks much more beautiful in the summer when the meadows are full of flowers. 

I did get a good look at a dragonfly though. 

We cycled about eighteen miles together, and I'd already cycled two to join the group at the start, so once we got back to town I was very ready for a lift back up the hill to home. Sadly (for me) I had stupidly left our only car key attached to my own key ring, so Peter couldn't get into the car, and I had to cycle another two uphill miles. I wasn't in the best of moods when I eventually made it home, and the rest of the day didn't involve much activity at all. 

I've got five Wildlife Trust reserves left to visit, and it would be nice to tick them all off before we move out of Sheffield (we're not going far, and I'll have to come back to the city for work anyway, but it seems wise to visit while we still live here). 

I do so love the seaside. Sadly we live nowhere near the sea, and so I don't go very often. I think I've only seen the sea twice this year, both when visiting my sister (who does live near the sea - I'm quite jealous). 

A couple of weeks ago the sun was shining and I declared that we needed to go to the seaside Right This Minute. Of course, being in England, we're never that far from the sea, and what feels like forever away is actually only about 70 miles. 

It was early October, and heading towards being out of season, but I still managed a (very chilly) paddle and of course at the seaside there's always a cafe (although on this occasion it wasn't very picturesque and I don't appear to have even taken a photo). 

We had a cup of tea, wandered up and down the pier and along the sand and had a paddle, then headed back to somewhere warmer. 

It was enough. 

I've started knitting again recently. I can't remember the last time I did a decent amount of knitting, and I do miss it. This time it's a pair of socks as a present for a friend (shh, don't say anything). 

This time I'm trying Winwick Mum's 'sockalong' pattern. It's been pretty straightforward to follow, although I've gone wrong a couple of times and have to undo a few rows (oops). I now have one whole sock though, hooray! 

I confess I always get a bit impatient when I'm knitting a second sock. I feel like I've got to the end of a project, and therefore shouldn't have to do the same thing all over again. Maybe I should get a second set of needles and have both socks on the go at the same time, and do a row of each in turn. 

I'm half way through the second one now though, and quite enjoying the 'Fair Isle effect' wool (not sure it looks like real Fair Isle knitting, but it's pleasingly stripey all the same). 

My mind is already on the next project - another pair of socks, this time with a single needle, rather than the four short double pointed needles I've always used before. I'm not sure how it'll work out, but I'm quite excited to find out. 

Sock knitting is a pretty good craft project for me at the minute. We've still not moved (of course) and everything is still in boxes, so this is something that doesn't take up a lot of space, and doesn't need a lot of equipment. 

I wonder how many pairs of socks I'll end up with before we finally move??