More haste .... causes disasters

Now, I am known for procrastination.
I think my way round situations, and dive in toward the last minute.

I'd known since the end of last year that I'd be leading a workshop on "Knitting with wire" for the Derby branch of the Knitting and Crochet Guild this morning.

So why last night was I still undecided exactly how to run it?
I had plenty of suitable materials for my group to knit with.
I had typed up most of a three page handout.

I had a good idea how much I could carry comfortably for the 20 minute walk through Derby from the station.
I knew which train I was aiming for.

Still in a bit of a dither as to what to leave behind, I nipped out to the reading group at the library.
I only stayed for a short while, and cycled home.

By then it was nearly 20.00, and I was at home (alone) and hadn't eaten.
I decided to steam some turnip in the microwave, while my chick peas, mushrooms and red peppers were on the stove.

That was the first error.
I didn't pay attention to how long I'd set it for, and went to put the reels of wire into a jiffy bag for this morning.
A few minutes later I suddenly remembered my supper.
What I found was a cloud of fine smoke in the kitchen.

So I switched the gas ring and the microwave off, and found a bowl containing dried turnip and smoking embers.
Took a damp cloth to cover it, and after unlocking the back door, picked up the glass plate with the oven gloves, and set it all to cool.

Then began my attempt to free the house from the smell of smoke before Stephen got in.
Fortunately, we can hook our back door open, and as it was windy I had to.
The external temperature was only just on freezing, so it didn't cool the house down too much.

I ate the chick peas, and washed out the bowl and microwave.
Then at just the wrong time of day I had to go and shower the smoke out from my hair.
The smoke hadn't clung to my clothing, but masses of it seemed to reside in my curls.

On the way to bed I stubbed a toe against a piece of wall that I know has been there all the time since we moved here in Dec 1995.
The nail has only just stopped showing black since the last time I stubbed it.
This is an occupational hazard as I wander round the house in socks most of the time.

All this made me forget to scan the samples I had knitted for that purpose.

I was up early enough to scan the samples, but hadn't left enough time for the speed at which our printer turns out coloured images.
I left the house with an envelope containing 15 prepared handouts and the wherewithal for 5 more. Two of those had no sample images.