The saga that is Hiro has stalled. The yoke and neck are complete. This is a bottom up, yoked pullover. One would think that casting off the neck band means that one should be basking the the warm glow of Finishing Glory. Here's the story from the beginning.
When we last spoke, Hiro was at the armpits. I had studyed the pattern, checked row guage, and determined that the armholes weren't going to be very deep if the pattern was knitted as written. By "not very deep" I mean that I was going to hard pushed to get my hand through that hole, let alone an arm. So I took my favourite sweater, measured the armhole, and calculated that I would need 64 rows between the armpit and neck.
Option one was to add in a few extra rows in the main colour, before starting that pretty yoke pattern. I was rapidly running out of the Nautilus colour, so option one wasn't really an option at all.
Option two was to add in extra pattern rows between the decreases, so that is what I did. I worked about twelve extra rows by repeating specific pattern rows.
The yoke had been beautifully simple, and the only maths involved was to work out how many rows I'd need to make the armhole deep enough. This is where things have become slightly unstuck.
When I tried Hiro on I realised that the yoke construction does funny things to your length measurements. I'm used to knitting set in sleeves, where you knit straight up to the top of the shoulder, then shape the shoulder slope. A yoke is worked in concentric circles, so the stitches go up at an angle. When I measured my favourite jersey, I measured from the armpit to the top of the shoulder. I should have measured from the armpit to the neckline. This meant that the waist shaping was a couple of centimetres higher than it should have been, and the whole jumper was about 4 cm too short.
I am a tall person. This is not the first time that I've come up short. It's not a reason to fret or panic. Having one small nuget of yarn left is a reason to fret or panic.. or perhaps both. Contacting Wollmeise was fruitless. They were helpful, but had sold out of the yarn. So I did what any sensible knitter does and contacted Ravellers who had used that same yarn, begging for their leftovers. A lovely American lady has come to the resue, and there is a ball of yarn making it's way back accross the Atlantic as we speak.
Meanwhile, I have unpicked the ribbing, and knitted straight down in socking stitch as far as I can. Stand by for the next installment if you want to know how I intend to cunningly hide a completely different dye lot in my ribbing. Until then I shall be knitting something that requires no maths or fitting at all.