In case you were wondering where I got such awful taste from, you need wonder no more. This is a tank top that my mother made for my dad back in the day. Apologies to anyone currently being blinded by the combination of 70s tank toppery and parental bedspread, but she took the pic not me.
I feel like I've been sucked into clothes making against my will. I always said I'd only make bits of crap to fill up the flat and to foist on other people - tea pot cosies, blankets, and the odd hat - but suddenly I find myself making clothes. And now, staring at this mesmerising tank top, I'm beginning to think "hmm, looks relatively straightforward, maybe I'll pick the pattern up next time I'm home.."
I think there may be chemicals in the wool.