Knit One, Unpick Three

Whisky-wow-wow, I spent part of yesterday in the studios at the University of the East learning how to D.I. a guitar and route it into Logic Audio, and the other part sitting at a stall at the Open Day, looking encouragingly at prospective students. This did not work, and when I got home I did my 'encouraging look' in the mirror and realised what a scary person I actually am!
I missed most of Shooting Stars by dawdling around when I got back, but it's giving me much needed belly-laughs at the moment, along with the correspondence between the spirited members of the Desperado Housewives.
I'm getting into gear now for the weekend: a gig in Sheffield tomorrow at the Shakespeare with Martin, then one at Adrian's allotment in Stockport (yes, I will definitely take my camera!) and then one in Wakefield at Henry Boon's Yard Bar. Somewhere in between all that I have to finish the knitted letter 'H' for the knitted poem, which I had to unpull as I got so fascinated by Wallander on BBC 4.
I don't normally watch TV, but all this shifting of
stuff from the loft,
the shed,
under the bed,
over my head,
Aunts who are dead
Blue, white and red,
Scruffy old ted
Dresses I wed
Great Uncle Ned
That's what I said
is knackering
and I have to
Just Sit For a While.