People often admire my work and ask what I am making next. The truth is, I am always making the same thing. I begin a scarf, and when it is almost complete, I find that I cannot bear the last row. Instead I go back, very quietly, and take out the first. It is a small sin. It keeps the scarf from ever being done.
A finished scarf is a thing that can be lost, or sold, or left on a bus. An unfinished one is always with you. It is a promise rather than a fact. I have forty seven of them in the cupboard, each at a different stage, and not one has ever been worn. I love every one. I shall go on loving them for as long as there are rows to love.
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