January 2026

With Joe Halton away on holiday (and therefore unable to defend the film adaptation of The Vampire Knitting Club that doesn’t exist), Constance Dilmore seized the opportunity to chair the meeting with a theatrical sigh of martyrdom. In Joe’s place, she invited Welston Yarn Bomber extraordinaire Tandy Sweetcroft to recommend the month’s read.

Tandy arrived armed with a tote bag the size of a small dinghy and immediately cast on a row before taking her seat. Her chosen book—Nancy Warren’s The Vampire Knitting Club—was met with polite nodding from those who hadn’t yet recovered from December’s Dickens debate.

Tandy explained she has always cherished the idea of owning a wool shop like Cardinal Woolsey’s. The notion of spending the afterlife knitting, as Lucy’s murdered grandmother does, appealed to her, though she assured us she’d “prefer to knit at a mortal’s pace, thank you very much,” rather than Gran’s alleged warp-speed output. A sentiment that startled nobody who has ever attempted to keep up with Tandy’s knitathons.

Romance, Vampires, and the Question of Abs

Discussion quickly shifted from the whodunit to the matter of whether Lucy would end up in a love triangle—with Rafe the vampire, or with the detective inspector.

Eleanora Reingold, arms crossed and lips pursed tight enough to snap yarn, announced that she simply could not understand why women in fiction insist on falling for vampires:
“Very, very old men,” she said, “who are cold to the touch, and—might I remind you—clinically dead.”

Constance countered with a shrug and the immortal line: “So long as he’s got great abs, dotage is irrelevant.”

At this, Tandy dropped a stitch, and Gerard Savin turned scarlet and giggled like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. With the chairperson now adrift in thoughts of undead six-packs, it fell to Alfred Bushwell to restore order by asking whether anyone had solved the mystery.

None had.
All agreed that once the murderer was revealed, the clues seemed perfectly obvious, “which is precisely how a proper whodunit should be,” Alfred declared, visibly relieved to find himself on firm intellectual ground.

Tandy’s Surprise Finale

The meeting closed with Tandy rummaging in her bottomless knitting bag and producing gifts for every Book Worm.

• Constance received a knitted cover for her clipboard, finally granting her the gravitas she believes she already possesses.
• Eleanora was handed a knitted pouch “for the Post-its she likes attaching to the minutes.” (Eleanora rewarded me with a glare that could have curdled milk.)
• Gerard received a bobble hat, which he modelled with such flourish that even Alfred applauded.
• Alfred was given a chunky reversible scarf, which he wore with the solemnity of a man accepting an honorary degree.
• And I, to Eleanora’s undisguised delight, received a knitted nose warmer.

Tandy winked as she handed it over.
“You need it, dear. All that nose-poking into other people’s business… and then writing about it.”

Frankly, given January’s frost, I may actually use it.