A Knitting Yarn *

I had to venture into the great Metropolis today and taking the car is an absolute nightmare, so I decided to let the train take the strain.
Boarding the slow service (stops at most stations) I sought out a window seat and settled down to read my newspaper, I had about two hours to catch up with all the latest.
The next two stops saw the carriage fill up and an odd looking Woman in her dotage sat right opposite me, she looked like a cross between Quasimodo and Arnie Schwarzenegger's Grand Mother and I'm sure I caught a distinct smell of damp dog wafting from her. She proceeded to open what could only be described as a woollen knapsack, out from which she pulled her knitting and two great balls of mangy looking wool and started to frantically pursue her mission. I was fascinated and couldn't help staring at the speed and dexterity of her knitting prowess, it was almost like watching a pair of Olympic fencers battle for gold and silver. As she carried on I could here her muttering under her breath, “knit one, purl one knit two together, cast off, slip one over and double crochet...Oh my God what was she saying?
She must have caught sight of me staring and said in a very posh and almost staccato voice, sounding just like a Dalek and very loud “ gloves for my son, birthday present, trying to get them finished before I arrive, I knit all my clothes don't-you-know.” Everyone looked at me as if to say well go then on answer her. All I could manage was “Oh really!”
Now my imagination was running riot. She said she knitted all her clothing, did that mean Angora socks, Cashmere stockings, Camel hair Knickers and Alpaca vest.
I had to glance down to hide my smirk and I couldn't believe what I saw, knitted bloody foot ware and I swear those stockings were made from anchor cable; unless of course she had exceptionally bad varicose veins.
I closed my eyes and feigned sleep.
As we pulled into Charing Cross I noticed the Woman had almost finished her gloves but the strangest thing was that the gloves had six digits. She must have seen my open mouth counting the fingers and said, “Yes it runs in the family, we are all polydactyly,” and held up both hands to reveal twelve digits. No wonder she could knit so fast. I was just about to ask if she also had twelve toes when she got up and said, “I change here for Paddington to get to Norfolk so bye bye.

Now why wasn't I really surprised to learn that she came from Norfolk. My brother-in-law is from East Anglia, and the whole family are Polydactyl.