My Nan (grandmother to those who think I'm talking about my Nancy) is an expert knitter. Years before I had Toby she was knitting for her great grandchildren, I'm her only grandchild. So when I found out I was pregnant she already had two suitcases full to the brim of baby clothes. She knits for friends, she knits for family and she still knits even though her body can't quite keep up with her as it used to.
She taught me when I was younger, but I was always too scared to go beyond a scarf. So scared of messing up in fact that she always cast on for me. I only just learned how to do that in 2003.
Fear still keeps me away from her craft. I have embraced the crochet hook instead of the knitting needles. I can fix anything in crochet but when I drop a stitch in knitting I panic and unpick the whole thing.
Recently though, I have felt the urge to knit. There's something therapeutic about it that I no longer get from crocheting. My friend handed me a pattern for a knit washcloth. It looked complicated. Mostly knit, it had a cute little border and was knit on the diagonal meaning I would have to learn how to increase and decrease - two whole new stitches to add to the two I already have (knit and a very cautious purl). I still have palpitations whenever I bind off a scarf so this was really adventurous for me.
Well, I did it. I learned the stitches, I made the washcloth and I didn't let fear of the finishing sequence deter me from actually finishing this. My first knitted project that wasn't a scarf. It's lovely, it's easy and I'm already on my second, dreaming about knitting a sweater for Charlie. I'm sending it to my Nan, she doesn't read my blog so shhh don't tell her. My plan is to replace all Toby's old washcloths with nice knitted ones but it seems only right that the first creation go to my Nan. I hope someday I can knit half as well, and as quickly, as she does.