The time has come. I’ve washed you, rolled you up and put you in the donations bag. You’re the last jersey I ever knitted. Palest cream, synthetic wool, moss-stitch throughout. I’ve always liked moss-stitch, but it’s the very devil to knit – slow and fiddly. I can’t even remember when I knitted you. Probably fifteen years ago. I know the project languished, until my Mother firmly took it over and finished you. She made me promise never to knit another jersey, because I take so long to finish them, and she was tired of tidying up my knitting projects. She sewed you up so beautifully. Lovely flat seams. And I wore you, and wore you, and washed you and washed you, and you stretched and stretched and stretched until I could only wear you secretly at home, away from public view. You were so comfortable, so all-enveloping, just warm enough whatever the weather. RIP my old cream cardigan.