Starting all over again

Towards the end of January the nice nurse who discharged me from hospital after my emergency hernia operation issued dire warnings of what might happen if I didn't avoid all strain to my newly-repaired stomach muscles for the next six weeks. Being a biddable sort of person when it really matters, I've obeyed her instructions, despite chafing at the restriction, so this is how I've been filling my time apart from blogging.

Rather too much of this

And quite a lot of these

A pair of these for me

And another for DD

Some of this - sermons and Lent talk

Now, finally, the six weeks are up and I’m looking forward to my new-found freedom. OK, it comes with some disadvantages, such as no longer having any excuse for not giving the vacuum cleaner its accustomed exercise, but it does mean I can finally get back into the swing of things and do something more physically demanding than knitting or desk work.

One of the casualties of this enforced period of rest has, of course, been clarinet practice. Playing a clarinet is very hard on the stomach muscles, which means that, after only a month of learning, I've had six weeks when I've not been allowed to blow a note. This afternoon I waved DH off for another visit to his mother, so this weekend I can practise to my heart’s content. What’s the betting that when I dust the cobwebs off the clarinet tomorrow, I’ll be back to my initial squeaks and odd notes? Ah well, I'd better take a lesson from Fred and Ginger...

Some images via Google

Settling in

I must be getting old. Even though we enjoy the journey north very much indeed, it does seem to take us longer to get over it each time. Still, we've caught up on our sleep, got the stiffness out of our knees and are starting to pick up the reins of life in the chilly north.

Now the rain has stopped and we can get outside without getting soaked, DH is happily occupied filling his new shed with all his ‘stuff’. I on the other hand have been to my first Knit and Natter of this visit, where I finished yet another pair of socks for him. I’m also tackling the garden, as our few shrubs have grown wildly since our last visit. When we arrived, late on Sunday, we almost had to hack our way through the enormous buddleia outside the kitchen window to get to the door.

A view to wake up to - the Kyle of Tongue from the bedroom window

The weather today has been cold, but brilliantly sunny, and the landscape is looking breathtakingly beautiful. It’s definitely soup weather, so I tried a new recipe today and am feeling wonderfully replete.  Small, inconsequential details of a very quiet life, but oh, so satisfying. 

Socks - for Rubye J 

A little something for the weekend

Life has pottered along gently this week, with Sunday’s snow still lying largely unmelted and our lane now very icy. Today the sun is shining brightly and making the ice crystals on the snow glisten like left-over Christmas glitter. The weekend is almost here, but with the possibility of more snow forecast for tomorrow, we won’t be going anywhere, preferring to hibernate quietly for the time being. DH is busy working on a project for one of his clients (no lazy retirement for him!) and I’m planning to finish the first sock in his new pair and cast on the second.

I usually knit while watching TV, but it mustn’t be anything too demanding, otherwise I will drop stitches (annoying with such fine fabric) or make even worse  mistakes which may entail pulling back my work. L I’m not like DD, able to do the most complex and beautiful knitting while reading or watching TV.  No knitting racehorse here, but instead a plodding donkey, who enjoys her work, but mustn't let herself get distracted.

So when a favourite film comes on TV and I settle down to do a few more inches of DH’s latest sock, I know that when certain scenes come along, the only safe thing to do is to put down my knitting and enjoy them to the full. One such favourite film I watched recently for the umpteenth time is the wonderful classic musical “Singin’ in the Rain”.  I knitted happily along to most of it, but the knitting definitely stopped for what I think is one of the best comic performances I have ever seen. I hope you enjoy it too.

Image via Wylio

Knit your own social network

About three hours ago I got back from my first visit this trip to the local Knit and Natter group.  We meet a couple of miles away from where I’m staying, in the home of the founder in another tiny, north Scottish village, looking out onto glorious views of coast and hills.

Usually there are between six and ten of us there, spending every Wednesday morning over coffee and cake, surrounded by yarn, needles and patterns, and setting the world to rights as we knit or crochet. It sounds dreadfully cosy, perhaps even a bit twee, when put down in black and white like that, but I think it’s actually something much more positive.

Of course there’s some gentle gossip over the coffee-cups, but it’s kind gossip, rooted in a genuine concern for the well-being of the inhabitants of these tiny, scattered, remote communities. We learn who is ill or in hospital and might need a friendly visit or a bit of help. We share news of the local schools and other organisations, find out when this or that social activity is planned and what help may be needed to put it on.

We also share our skills, with the more experienced happily imparting their knowledge to the beginners or the returners to the craft. We decide what we’re going to make to raise money for the local church and other good causes, and also where members might be able to sell their other beautifully-made items to raise money for more yarn.

The trouble with being a truly addicted knitter - and we all are (or soon will be) - is that you have to find a home for what you make and there are only so many sweaters, scarves and hats our families and friends can use. You also have to buy yarn for further knitting and good quality yarn doesn’t come cheap nowadays. That’s why, as I've written about here, I love making socks. They are small, cheap to make, and everyone needs socks. J

It’s a pleasant, sociable way to spend a Wednesday morning and I really enjoy going there. But I also think we make more than just our knitted items as we knit and natter our way through our three hours together. In our own small way I think we make our communities a little stronger with our exchange of information, our interest and our concern. In addition, we find that working together, even if only once a week, is better than always working apart, better for ourselves and also better for the causes for which we work.

So whether I’m knitting socks, or tiny sweaters for premature babies, or just admiring the amazing skill of those busy creating a lacy scarf or gossamer-fine shawl, I find knitting and nattering is as good and productive a way of spending some of my life as I can think of. That’s my craft addiction, do please tell me yours.

The joy of socks

Today has been an odd, bitty, drifting sort of day, because I’m worried. I’m worried because just as I finished yesterday’s post, I learned that my younger sister is ill and in hospital for tests. 

She lives a long way from us, but close to her children, who are keeping us, her sisters, updated whenever they learn more about her condition. I know she’s in the best place and being well cared for, but still I’m worried and I’ve been finding it hard to settle down and concentrate.

So I’ve drifted.

I drifted on to the computer and sorted out the mini-avalanche of email which has been coming and going for the past 24 hours.

I drifted round the house, tidying up after DH’s return yesterday, but he has been too busy dealing with a client’s urgent problem to be able to stop and take my mind off my worries.

I drifted back to the computer to try to catch up with a few of my favourite blogs, but I’m afraid my heart wasn’t in it and my mind was definitely elsewhere.

Finally I drifted downstairs again and my gaze fell on my knitting. Usually I knit when the TV is on. Knitting gives me something to do with my hands and part of my mind, while the rest of my mind follows what’s on TV. To be honest, half a mind is as much or more than a lot of TV programmes deserve.

This time I didn’t switch on the TV.  Instead I just sat and knitted and worried about my sister and prayed for her and those who love her and those who are caring for her and gradually, as I knitted, I stopped worrying quite so much.

Knitting can do that for me. The gentle, repetitive action is soothing and doesn’t demand so much attention that you can’t think at the same time. Even better, knitting is productive. The worse thing about worrying is that it is so darned unproductive, such a waste of time and emotional energy. Yet, when someone we love has a problem, it’s very hard to stop ourselves worrying. So, if you can’t help worrying, sit down and knit while you worry, and if you want to feel really productive at the end of it, knit socks.

I just love knitting socks. It was DD, my knitting guru, who first introduces me to the joy of circular knitting and especially to the joy of knitting socks. It was she who gave me my first balls of funky sock yarn and my first circular needles and taught me how to use them. I was instantly hooked.

Putting on my first pair of hand-knitted socks was a revelation. They fitted my awkward feet perfectly and were so blissfully comfortable that I didn’t want to take them off. After that there was no stopping me. I knitted socks for myself and DH. I knitted socks for my sister and our daughter-in-law and now I’m in the throes of knitting socks for DS. The only thing that stops me knitting socks for our three grandsons is the fact that their feet are growing so fast that I could never keep up.

Knitting socks satisfies almost every need I have in a handicraft. Socks are small and light, so you can put your knitting in your bag and take it everywhere. Socks also take much less time to knit than sweaters or cardigans, so you never get bored or daunted and feel like giving up. Yet socks are complex enough to give you a sense of achievement and the warm glow of self-satisfaction that comes from being told how clever you are to be able to knit them.

There is an endless supply of wonderful sock yarns in every possible combination of colour and fibre, so that each pair you knit seems quite new and different. Finally, and this is the truly wonderful thing about knitting socks, you need never run out of people to knit for. In this era of sweatshirts and fleeces, not everyone wears sweaters or cardigans, or even hats or scarves, but everyone I know wears socks, and, believe me, once you’ve worn hand-knitted socks you want to wear them again and again.

So as I sit and knit and worry, at least I know that my sitting and worrying will result in warm feet for DS, and for me a renewed awareness of the importance of the people in my life and how very lucky I am to have them to worry about.  


Image via Wylio