With lots of false starts and frustrated fingers, I managed to figure out the problems, put them behind me and get on with the job. Obviously, the first person to blame was Rowan, but after an email (or two) the blame was left on those poor Addi Turbos sitting in my hands.
I did think once or twice about blaming Darling Hubby, but my grounds of him losing my concentration to talk to me didn't stand strong enough. I mean fancy him wanting to strike up a conversation when Im counting cast-on stitches, tch!
and here is a closer look at the detail.