Me and Chibber were on the subway the other day. By subway that might mean the underground to you or the tube station. I don’t know, I‘m not cosmopolitan. Anyway, we’re sitting there and a woman is sitting directly across from us and her hands are stitching a piece of yarn like nobody’s business. She’s nonchalantly staring into space while the hands are going at Burlington Bertie, a hundred to thirty.
“She’s a good knitter, isn’t she?” I said to Chibber, who replied.
“She’s crocheting.”
As soon as he said this he wanted the ground to swallow him up even though we were already underground. How did he know the difference?
Boadicea's Chariot 