One of the rounds consisted of Christmas songs, one after another, sung by those exceedingly dull 1950s crooners who, frankly, all sound the same if you don't own a single one of their albums. I don't know my Acker Bilks from my elbow.
The rest of the day was spent at Craft and Cake with the knitting gang. The cakes were provided by Sam this week: glorious blueberry muffins.
Kate and I decided that the majority of knitting terminology is deeply comic, and laughed like little children every time someone said "gusset", "heel flap" or "ball band." I reckon you could go to a dodgy shop in Soho, utter a special codeword, and get all of that from under the counter!