needle business

above image: lulusvintage.com

So knitting is de rigeur and it's no longer weird to be found lurking in wool shops on a Saturday afternoon. Late to the bandwagon as always, I've not been knitting properly that long (save an afternoon on the train in my first year of uni when I tried in vain to knit the beginnings of a patchwork quilt, failing miserably and no doubt being silently mocked by the commuters around me). I'm also one of those people that can't resist trying to step up their game before they're any good at something.

A couple of years ago I came across a fantastic wool shop in Norfolk whose name helpfully escapes me at present. Even though anything beyond a knit, purl, increase and decrease (end of rows only, obviously) was an alien land, I shelled out what seemed like a fortune (£16.99) for a Kim Hargreaves book. A thoughtful yarn-based birthday present and about 6 months of starting again (and again, and again) later, I finally managed to finish Fleur, a cashmere-blended t-shirt-jumper. The feeling was brilliant - I was invincible, I could rule the world, one skein at a time.

Then I spotted a huge bargain in John Lewis' always immense Christmas sale - £48 for 12 balls of Rowan Silky Tweed. I decided my skill level was up to conquering cable, double moss stitch, peplums and buttonholes (despite being a novice to them all) and snapped up the yarn with the aim of banging out Delphine, a kind of tweedy jacket from the same book. Obviously I couldn't even get past the first line, so I gave up and sulked for pretty much a year.

A couple of weeks ago I found myself staring at the knitting bag once again, daring myself to have a go at the stupid pattern. I would beat it. And, armed with a rare afternoon of nothingness, a couple of helpful Youtube clips and litres of tea, I finally cracked it. Victory! And now I have a new knitting project to while away my currently ill hours:



The back is done and I've just started the left front. Now I know what I'm doing it's one of the most fun things I've ever attempted. And it gave me a chance to acquire some new equipment - say hello to my lovely new stitch markers. They came from a tiny shop called Create and Knit in Breedon on the Hill. A really weird place actually, a kind of antiques-cum-craft-cum-garden centre affair. Full of elderly people of course, but that's the life you lead when you take an interest in knitting and antiques. It was a decent shop with a small but well-chosen selection of wool, and I couldn't resist these murano glass-esque markers. My Mum bought about 20 balls of aran for her own knitting project, and we spent a happy afternoon tackling cable for the first time together.

You can laugh/cry at my tedious progress on my Ravelry page.