Scary stories from a lovely place
I suck at knitting. Seriously. I am hopeless. And I’ve been doing it for a long time, more than 10 years I’d say. And before you assume it’s just a passing fancy, that I probably only pick up the needles once every 24 months, don’t. For at least the last 4 years I’ve been knitting pretty constantly all year round, summer and winter. Sometimes I go on hiatus when it all is too depressing and I vow never to knit again. But then, weeks or months later (depending on what other diversions I am into) I dust off the old pincers and lash them to a ball of wool.
And the ironic (or cruel?) thing is I love it. I really love to knit. I love to sit and drink tea, either alone or in company, either in silence or with a podcast, and click clack front and back. (If memory serves ‘click clack front and back’ is a slogan from an Australian seat belt campaign, but it works for knitting too I think.)
Lately I’ve been reading some knitting blogs (mainly this one), watching tutorials and just generally trying to be better at the whole thing. I don’t think I’m improving but reading the blogs has made me realise that it is quite embarrassing to fail at knitting. People who write about it or who claim to love it as much as I do actually have some talent.
I am also a member of Ravelry which is knitting facebook. On it you share current projects, find patterns and mark off your favourite kinds of wool. This is another area I fall down in. The wool I buy would never be on Ravelry. Most of it is pure wool, or a blend of natural fibres, but the generic stuff. However for a project I’ve just started I bought 2 balls of 50% merino and 50% acrylic (gasp!). That could get me kicked off Ravelry. I can hear blood starting to boil in some knitting camps. I already have 8 balls of Sublime Organic Merino for the same project (courtesy of generous Ellie). I just can’t afford the pure stuff, it’s upwards of R70 a ball. Many other Ravellers and knitting bloggers are even writing patterns, spinning their own wool, producing multi-coloured works of wonder and whipping up items of complexity seemingly overnight.
It weighs me down. It really does. This morning I was going to go to a knitting club at my local yarn shop but instead I am writing this post and staring at my current knitting project, mocking me from the couch. I was worried that they would watch my clumsy method and observe the mistakes I am no doubt making and wonder what on earth I am doing at a knitting club. A couple of weeks ago I went to the Melville Scrabble club (can you tell I am wanting to get out of the house?). And it was the same there. I thought it would be dinner, drinks, conversation and a friendly game of Scrabble on the side. No. It was hardcore. Stephen and I play pretty regularly but there were a whole stack of new rules and most of the words my opponents used I had never heard of. Interestingly they didn’t know what most of these words meant, but they were in the stupid Scrabble dictionary (which has no meanings!). Needless to say I was slaughtered. So I just couldn’t take another round table meeting where my shortcomings were laid bare.
But, I will carry on with the knitting, and the scrabble. And I will continue to be average at both.