The beginning

Much as I’d like to have chosen a less obvious and clichéd post title, it does sort of sum up where I am at the moment.  I have started to knit.  Literally in the last week.

After a weekend spent clearing up the spare room that we’ve somehow managed to turn into a chaotic lair of boxes in the two months that we’ve been here, I picked up my Stitch ‘n Bitch book (by Debbie Stoller – awesome) from under a pile of coats and started to flick through it.  Then last week I stopped off at iKnit in Waterloo on my not-so-direct way home from work to buy some needles (uh, wood) and yarn (ummm, it’s blue?) before plonking myself down onto the sofa.  According to my other half, I then spent the next three hours muttering to myself while flicking through various pages of my book and stabbing at the aforementioned blue wool with the aforementioned wooden needles.  All while wearing what he likes to call my ‘angry-concentratey face’.

All very valid points.  To my mind though, I was learning how to cast on and cope with some simple knit stitches, back and forth along the needles and slowly but surely creating a small blue swatch.  All before buggering it up somewhat with a dodgy bind off, but that’s beside the point.  I had created something; it was little and it was blue and decidedly lumpy in places, but it was an achievement.

Since then, I’ve become mildly obsessed.  I now have five small, blue swatches, each in a different type of stitch: garter, stockinette, 2×2 rib, purl with a colour change (also blue, I’m afraid) and even an attempt at the heart patterned swatch from my book.  It’s amazing (I mean The Knit; the swatches are far from amazing).  I can make something from wool and sticks.  Surely world domination is only a few more swatches away?

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