Knitting for nearly all my life
- February 17, 2017
- Lydia Kinda
I seem to have been knitting for nearly all my life. I started knitting in earnest in my late teens. I know this because I have photographs to prove that I wore a self-made bright yellow polo jumper in blackberry stitch. That’s right, my upper torso was covered in small yellow bumps. Skittles stand aside.
Some years later I took on the wholesale agency for a Victorian knitting wool manufacturer and got involved in knitting again. Actually, I organised more knitters to knit for me, including my mother, than I actually knitted myself. I was too busy trying to sell the wool and encourage others to knit.
Then a few years ago I re-discovered knitting. My daughter knitted a modern log-cabin patch blanket. Shades of a Mondrian painting. Well, if it was good enough for Yves Saint Laurent? So, I followed suit, knitted the blanket in cot size. Knitted one for each of my grandchildren. In Charlie’s case I actually made it single bed size. Quite an effort.
The pattern required 4 colours which were knitted by stitches being picked up so the blanket was knitted in one piece. No sewing (except for ball ends) required. I also discovered the joy of circular needles which were especially useful for leaving the weight of the large blanket on my lap rather than in my hands.
I knitted about six before I got bored with the pattern and started to invent my own patchwork of squares. I knitted them in shades of pink, blue and multi-coloured (to use up all those bits leftover).
Then I progressed to creating patterns within the blanket. I knitted one for a friend’s great niece with interlocking “L’s” as she was another Lydia.
Then I discovered a baby cardigan, also knitted in one and created several to use up my “stash”. I even knitted some booties, the modern kind.
Well, since I don’t know anybody having babies who needs a cot blanket, I then moved on to the other end of life. I saw a bottle of wine “Memento Mori” memory of death. So I have crafted a blanket of a friend’s initial and her son’s initial. It is hard to find something tasteful to remember someone by. Hopefully a blanket to huddle under may work.