DAY THIRTY SIX

The wool I mentioned the other day has arrived, the kit is assembled, the pattern (for a Tam O'Shanter/Beret) downloaded and printed. Let battle commence.
 
I am in truth not the most accomplished knitter, but nonetheless like to have something on the go especially in the winter months. This practice could be some relic or folk memory from childhood when it seemed every winter saw my mother fixed in her chair with fingers flying like the shuttle on a steam driven loom. She could hold a conversation, watch TV, smoke a cigarette, drink a cup of tea and I'm sure if asked make you a sandwich and her fingers never seemed to stop moving.

My first experience of knitting for myself was at primary school, aged about eight I suppose. We were all asked to knit a six inch square, and all the squares would be collected up and made into a blanket to be sent to children in Africa. As a child my only knowledge of Africa was that it was a hot place and so I was always a little confused by the need for blankets but my competitive spirit took over and I threw myself into the project with gusto. I think I made three squares in the end, using up odds and ends from my mother's stash.
 
One of the most pleasing things about the knitting for Africa was that instead of lessons we were allowed to knit on some days. I have vivid memories of the whole class struggling with the obstreperous brightly coloured plastic needles, all of us concentrating like fury, tongues sticking out, furrowed brows, some practically boss-eyed, as we made huge swinging arm movements to make the stitch. 

The memory stayed with me, topped up with frequent reminders by all the knitting that used to go on in our house - two knitting sisters as well as my mum - but I never knitted again until in my early twenties when I took on a jumper for a bet. It was alternate squares of stocking and moss stitch in a mottled purple colour. It turned out reasonably well for a first attempt, though always a little tight.

Forward another 30 years and I saw a man in my local library with the most amazing chunky knit coat* of multi-coloured squares and almost simultaneously saw a book on the returned shelves called 'The Knitting Manual for Men'. The coincidence was too strong to ignore so I took the book home and got stuck into a scarf which again had alternating squares but also a cable motif running up the centre. Since then it's been the odd foray into socks (failed), hats (not bad) and gloves (questionable), with an ever present intention to actually learn to do it properly. 

Who would have thought when I and thrity others were wrestling with those six inch squares all those years ago as a mandatory 'good deed' for others I would still be aiming to master the craft fifty years later.

Onwards...one row at a time.
 
 

*I've been looking for a suitable pattern ever since withouth success.


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