Still knitting. Although not while watching the rugby.
Half because I don’t do that, due to the fact that rugby tends to stir me to levels of agitation that may put people around me at risk of being stabbed by a knitting needle.
Half because I was at work – Newcastle CU main meeting: a brilliant talk on the Prodigal Son from Matt Lillicrap, and lots of chat and prayer about the upcoming mission week.
Which reminds me to inquire – does anyone know why the 6 Nations is starting in February and on a Friday this year?
To the point of my title today. In the past I’ve written about my ridiculously useless gift of prophetic knitting. Essentially – I have managed in the past to always correctly guess the gender of the babies of friends and families before their births. But the last two days have brought my streak to an end. I had decided on a boy for Hamish and Marije and a girl for Peter and Linda, and lo and behold, Hamish and Marije introduce us to Rebecca, while Peter and Linda announce the birth of Samuel.
Maybe the closeness of arrivals messed with my radar. Or maybe the gift has been withdrawn. I’ll have to wait until July to find out for real.
In summary: prophecy-less.