But when it comes to knitting, I’m spectacularly slow, let me tell you all about it…
1. Count your stitches. I thought I’d start with an easy one. It’s pretty obvious too but somehow eludes me. I’m great at casting on the right number but then, somehow, I forget. Or maybe it’s because I darent. I mean, if the stitches are right then it’s a waste of time, if they’re out then…well you’re just going to have to burn it. So it’s just best not to know.
2. This came up in a recent conversation. Remember to change to the larger needle size after you’ve finished to ribbing. You know how patterns often recommend you use a slightly smaller needle for cuffs? I think I’m just so relieved to have finished the endless k1, p1 and skipping at the idea of just knitting, changing my needles is so far from my mind it doesn’t happen until I’m halfway up the body of a sweater and realise it’s looking a little on the teeny size. So now I don’t bother, I use the larger ones throughout, I mean who’s noticing if your cuffs are a little baggy anyway?
3. Be realistic. I know I can cable/knit stranded/create complicated lace shawls. The issue is whether I actually want to enough to finish the project. Remember this? The fair isle blanket? I mean who on earth knits a fair isle blanket? My point exactly.
4. Accept you never ever have the right needles for the project. I have three, yes three, full sets of interchangeable needles as well as a whole heap of fixed end circulars. Do I have the right size? No. My plan? To employ a ‘project manager’ to put the right yarn in the right amount (don’t get me started on that one either) with the correct needle(s) (depending on whether I’m risking life and limb with the cuffs) and notions all in a pretty bag with the pattern so I can just get knitting. Because that’s all I want to do. It’s not much to ask, surely?
5. That stitch marker you love? Yeah, say goodbye. I’ve developed this ‘skill’ of being able to flick the marker right off the end of the needles never to be seen again. I honestly couldn’t tell you how I achieve this, if it wasn’t so annoying it’d be my party trick.
6. Scissors. Who eats them?
7. Never, ever knit anything that will involve sewing at any point. Do I make myself clear? There is something horribly wonderful about how parts of a cardigan can look so neat and professional until they’re sewn together. Then it looks like something a four year old has made, after the cat has chewed on the corners a little and the dogs have dragged it around the lawn. Thank the Lord for knitting in the round. Every day.
8. The prettier a skein, the more disturbingly tangled it will become when you’re balling it up. It’s a law of nature.
9. Never promise to knit anything for anyone. How to suck the joy from knitting in one easy step: promise you’ll make something for someone. The more they mean to you the worse it will be. When I was writing my dissertation, I exchanged a pair of socks for some transcribing. Despite it saving me hours of work, I honestly had to drag every last stitch from my fingers; I’m good with giving something to someone after it’s finished, in fact that’s one of my favourite things. But the expectation you’ll knit something has a peculiar way of ensuring it will be a chore from hell.
10. I’m not patient. People say ‘I don’t have the patience to knit’. Being impatient is exactly why I knit. I’m perfectly happy to be kept waiting for appointments; two hours is the longest, after a new admin system created chaos for my consultant. However, I had my knitting and was over the moon to have some extra yarn time, as this was back in the days of full time work. Without the knitting I’m just two sticks and some string away from a stabby, discombobulated gorgon.
Take up knitting they said, it’ll be relaxing they said. Humpf. Happy knitting 😉