
‘What is a slipknot?’ Sheila said, opening the knitting pattern to the first page.
It was a good idea, when she found out she was going to be a grandmother, to knit some baby clothes. The most she could do was knit and pearl, the rest looked like it belonged in a torture chamber.
The Global art of making something lost in the shame of losing so many stitches the machination didn’t work. I mean, there were only so many woolly hats a baby could wear. She could knit another blanket, but again, there were only so many blankets a baby would need.
Perhaps she could find a knitting club, join the banter of other women, but then she wasn’t quite like her aunties. They could watch television and knit at the same time. Her favourite pastime was writing, it didn’t quite fit.
She crossed her gaze, and managed to slip a stitch over the other. It kind of looked like the pattern. Although, would it not be easier to buy them instead.
A buzz from her mobile, and a message from her daughter. ‘Mum, can you buy more of that soft wool. I loved the blanket you made for Lillie, it’s brilliant. Can you make a bigger one just for me.’
Oops 😬
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The only thing I can knit are blankets and hats. I did knit my granddaughter a doll, which had one leg longer than the other, and very interesting (strange) eyes. I think I should stick to writing.
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I used to knit a lot, but now my hand hurt when I hold the needles.
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Mary’s a knitter, although on an extended hiatus at the moment…
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I only knitted for a year or so gave up when the patterns were complicated.
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