Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
I can’t quite remember how old I was when I first learned to knit but I know knitting was something I indulged in, and enjoyed, for years and years. I used to knit all the time. I made sweaters and scarves and cushion covers and toys and blankets and . . . well, you name it, I probably had a go at it. (Okay, I never made a hoodie for a dog, but I might have if I’d thought any of my boys or girls would have worn them . . . ) And then, for reasons I can no longer remember, I stopped. Just stopped. Probably I got too busy, or too lazy, or took up other interests instead . . .
Until about a month ago I had not thought about knitting for the longest time but, when clearing out one of my cupboards at home, I came across a large whicker basket filled to the gunnels with all manner of knitting paraphernalia. Great big fat plastic needles, long skinny metal needles—and every size needle in between. Knitting patterns, scissors, packets of pins, tape measures, crochet hooks, various reels of (tangled) threads, stitch holders, safety pins and a notebook and pen. And of course, yarn. All sorts of odd balls of yarn. Oh my—I had forgotten how much I loved the yarn . . .
But no. Stop right there. I must not get carried away. If I am going to get back into knitting I am going to take it slowly. I must use up the wools and yarns I already have first. No rushing down to the nearest wool emporium to buy up skeins and skeins of gorgeous vibrant coloured . . . or mottled . . . or flecked . . . or chunky . . . or worsted . . . or angora . . .or alpaca . . . or silk . . . Sigh. So much yarn and so little time. And space.
Because, in spite of what Stephanie Pearl-McPhee says, I can already forsee at least one terrible consequence. My renewed ardour for all those gorgeous knitting patterns, wools, threads and yarns could easily begin to rival that of my (seemingly unrelenting) desire for new pens and pencils and paints and sketchbooks . . .
. . . and I really can’t afford to move to a bigger house just yet . . .