In her introduction to Scarf Style, Pam Allen calls scarves 'the comfort food of knitting': soothing to knit, comforting to wear, and 'a virtual hug to the recipient.' I have often heard of the magical power of the cable, adding excitement and adventure to otherwise backwards-and-forwards knitting.
This scarf, then, is the perfect comfort blanket and travelling companion for someone with a few scattered worries (exams looming - again - and with them my less pleasant self, D's uncle is sick, the overflow from the toilet is leaking (clean) water into the flat below and the neighbours are neither patient nor polite, D is away and I miss him, the doctors still don't know what's wrong with me but I have some slightly grim investigations to look forward to as soon as my exams are out of the way), repepetitive and monotonous enough to let me think my own thoughts, quietly, clearly, with the hustle of London flowing around me, without being so mindless as to let my thoughts fly off into the anxious rafters.
It's the Irish Hiking Scarf, which I am calling the Welsh Hiking Scarf because it's for D who is a bit Welsh (Deri, which rhymes with 'berry' by the way, means 'oak tree' in Welsh) and likes hiking.
Although next time he climbs Snowdon, something made of polar fleece might be more in order.
(Gratuitous boyfriend blog shot. Like I said, I miss him. Also I have no idea why the camera put that date on, twenty years before Kodak released the first professional digital camera system. It amuses the luddite in me).