If you knit are you doomed…

In the 70s my granny taught me to knit. It was a sporadic hobby – dropped and picked up briefly when mohair batwings and slubby cotton singlets were fashionable. Funky jumpers were knitted in 1988 for my toddler daughter. Then in 2003 I bought a ball of wool in a charity shop, thinking it would relieve the boredom of six weeks confinement after an operation.

My father collected me from hospital and before depositing me home took me to the local craft shop to buy needles. One hour later we emerged with a needlepoint cushion kit – his idea, not mine! The wool was relegated to a drawer. I got repetitive strain injury sewing 7am to 12pm whilst the Iraq war unravelled at the end of my bed. I recovered, left the house and found a boyfriend.


Seven years on; boredom set in. The wool came out, the knitting began, the boyfriend was asked to buy some more mohair on Ebay (he had an account). He left a week later as  I was apparently preparing for retirement. The granny squares lie five years later untouched in a trunk. A relic of the relationship. Dark and itchy.

Two years after Ebay man’s departure I’m in a hotel room in Singapore with an old friend. He’s flown from Australia. I feel at home after a few weeks there in my little suite. I get out my white mohair and start to knit whilst he watches endless sports. An audible gasp from beside me and then a tirade of granny insults! My credibility has apparently been forever ruined. His desire for me dissolved. He falls asleep whilst watching Wolverine. I sticky plaster bamboo needles to my fingers and poke him till he wakes. Kniterine has arrived.

Three weeks ago. A small hotel in the Wairarapa (I assure you I don’t spend my life in hotels) with the boyfriend of four months and the first relationship since Ebay man. It’s late and I’m about to finish the last row on a scarf I’ve been knitting him for three months. He’s watching Alien videos on Youtube. I ask “Do you like the scarf”. His grumpy response, “Have you ever seen me wear a scarf before. I suppose I’ll wear it when it’s cold.”  Next morning we left. I’ve not heard from him since.

knitted scarf

So my question is – if you like to knit are you doomed to singledom?

Last week I put my first internet dating profile up after a dare from the person who dared me this week to start the blog. I mentioned in my hobbies I like to knit. The only response so far has been an influx of emails from a 62 year old sheep farmer from Hawkes Bay! Maybe he’s also heard about my merino knickers.

So I want to go for Yum Char

I’ve been saying for years I’ll start a blog but having a day job delivering online projects means the last thing you want to do is come home and do it all again. However, the dangle of Yum Char today was too much. Sunday lunch with sewing bloggers. Food and fabric talk. How could I resist. I promised I would come home and write my first blog entry so I could join my friends on Sunday.

So how hard is this going to be? Well, quite because…

Despite once a month racing across town in my little red Ka with a big seagrass shopping bag of fabric and a borrowed sewing machine (I’ve somehow managed to ship my precious Benina to the other side of the world without a spool case rendering it useless for now as I’m not willing to pay the $125 for a new one when they are $70 in the UK!) to join a group of fellow Fabric Hoarders…

and having spent 3 years training in Fashion and about 7 years teaching adults at a Further Education college and the University of Brighton…

and having about 30 boxes of fabrics collected over 25 years in storage for 3 years in the UK and now over here but 15 kilometres away in a locked unit…

and having amassed a new stash from my volunteer role at Mary Potter and hidden it behind the chest of drawers in my bedroom and the suitcases under my bed…

I can’t seem to get my arse together and sew anything but quilts and cushions! I’ve lost my mojo for making anything that adorns my body. That was until we went on our latest retreat three weeks ago and somebody mentioned they had just finished a pair of knickers. You see moving to New Zealand has introduced me to the joys of fine merino and best of all merino knickers. I can testify to them being warm in a cool Kiwi winter and beautifully breathable in a hot European summer.  But at $39 a pair you don’t have a whole draw full!

It just happened that I’d bought along in the old seagrass bag a couple of pieces of $3 Levana merino scraps purchased on our last retreat close to Levin and a bigger $2 remnant from my local op shop purchased the previous day. The next day I had two new pairs of wonderful wool knickers made using the Barrie knicker pattern and two more cut out (the borrowed machine gave up the ghost mid-Sunday).

I’m sure the pattern I used was the Barry knicker but can I find it on the internet to share. NO!!! But when I do I’ll add the link here and when my lovely knickers are out of the wash I might just post a picture here.