The blanket that should have been my first knitting ta dah

Remember way back when I started knitting? (There's a whole post about it here) I built my stitch repertoire and skills up by following the monthly instalments from The Art Of Knitting mag. Each month there was a pattern for a new square for the patchwork woollen blanket. The mag came with revolting yarn and I decided early on to use gorgeous yarn so I could enjoy every moment. Well, when I say I 'enjoy', that isn't what really happened. I'll admit to crying over my knitting as I was learning. I found it frustrating. 

I wasn't naturally good at it to begin with. I couldn't pick up a dropped stitch and had to unravel so much I wondered if I may as well stick to crochet. But I rarely give up with anything. I'm a stubborn bird. To my detriment sometimes but often, like with knitting, to my benefit. I'd say my stubborness (is that even a word?) is a good thing on the whole. Actually, as I think of it, stubborness with a little laziness maybe the perfect combo. You fight for the important and let the trivial slide. Yes knitting is important to me! I love it...now.

I couldn't say if I prefer knitting over crochet though. They each have their attractions. There are few crochet garments I would wear aside from mittens, scarfs etc... I've not found a cardi pattern I'm dying to hook up. Where as I have hundreds of knitted cardi's, jumpers and even skirts ear marked in my ravelry account. 

I don't love knitted patchwork blankets like I love crochet patchwork blankets. I do have deep fondness for this blanket for all it taught me but the back of it looks a right mess to me. The seams aren't neat even though I mattress stitched them. A crochet blanket tends to look good from all angles. Of course a solid knitted blanket would look nice from both sides. 

I will always be both a crocheter and a knitter for I like them for different reasons. If I'm watching a programme on TV that needs a bit of attention then I would always opt for some simple knitting so that I could keep my eyes on the TV, I can feel where the needle needs to go whereas with a hook I have to look. 

I'll never abandon my hook, not least because it makes me feel connected to my Great Grandmother who I never met. Nanny Laura. She was my Mum's Mum's Mum. There's a mouthful. I was very close to my Mum's Mum, Nanny Dot. She gave me my nickname Cuckoo. I loved her dearly and miss her fiercely. My heart can't reconcile that I've not seen her for eight and a half years. I digress, my Nanny Dot used to talk about her mother a lot. From all accounts Nanny Laura was an amazing woman. My own Mum loved and misses her grandmother the same as I miss mine. 

My Mum saw a spiritualist/medium chap a few years ago. Now, you may or may not believe in these things but sometimes they aren't vague and they truly know facts that they could not pick out from body language alone. I'm not going to go into a debate about authenticity here, sometimes I want to believe because it comforts me, other times the scientist in me whistles through her teeth. Anyway this spiritualist described my Great Grandmother and gave a few other personal facts for verification. He told my Mum that Nanny Laura had been watching members of our family waiting for someone to show an interest in the things she was good at in life (I know this sounds stupid) and she had decided that she would give her skills to that person. The medium told my Mum that Nanny Laura had chosen me. Funnily enough when I sat with a book to teach myself properly how to crochet (my Mum had shown me in the past but I couldn't retain it) I had the most enormous sense of de ja vue. It was like I suddenly knew what to do. I never struggled to hold the yarn and control it. My hook felt like an extension of my hand. My tension was fine immediately. I felt a sense of contentment in those early days that I'd not felt in that precise way before. I could almost smell a new smell. I'm sure I'll lose some followers for saying all this and I know I sound barmy but I speak the truth. This is how it was. I seemed to instinctively know what I was doing all of a sudden. Shame I wasn't given the gift of knitting. That was blood sweat and tears!

And now for a little silliness. Those of you who read my blog and know me in real life will know Mr C and will find this pic of the poor man hilarious. 

Yes he was in pain.....because his Father was removing a plaster from his leg. The wuss!!!!!!

xxx