However: my old 90s mittens have moth holes in them, besides being just too big. My lost fleecy mittens came from a church bazaar and luckily the Anglican church up the street from work was having a church bazaar yesterday: or rather, 'craft show'. This last was not encouraging, because craft shows tend not to have homely crafts. Jewelry and notebooks and occasionally soap and candles, but knitting is too recherche in downtown TO. Fortunately this was indeed a bazaar and there was a table of knitted everythings by a woman who lives out of town. So I got a pair of wool mittens, much appreciated in yesterday's raw dank. Not ideal because in the church hall's dimness I failed to note that the backs are open work and the mitts themselves very loosely done; but for double-bagging purposes when the temps are near freezing, quite sufficient.
Note that the neighbourhood potter from my young days is still pottering forty years later, though now she does blue glazes instead of (what I think of as) her trademark brown. Is distinctly possible that she's younger than me because I wrongly remember buying her stuff in the very early 70s whereas she didn't start potting until '74.
Today good citizen me raked a bunch of leaf carpets out of the street gutters where they will not freeze in Tuesday's returned cold. My virtuous deed until it starts snowing and I commence shovelling people's sidewalks again.