Idle hands

I used to knit. Yards and yards of yarn. No begging rello that came to my door was ever knocked back; my children, other people’s children, nieces, nephews, all got a garment each winter. As a mum raising two boisterous boys, I didn’t mind so much, I had plenty of time on my hands. And as little old ladies were always reminding us, ‘the Devil finds work for idle hands’. Wool was cheaper then and apart from the satisfaction of creating something original it was a more practical option to make your own than to buy a more expensive mass produced, machine made garment.

I loved to drop in to my local wool shop and speak to the old dears behind the counter. (They’re probably the ones who coined that term about the Devil and idle hands.) They could always answer questions about flat seams and cables and how to change colours when doing an Aran knit. Then I’d browse through pattern books, feast on the colours and feel the textures.

The little old ladies have all gone to God now, as have most of the shops and there’s no one there to have crafty chats with. Most of the shops that are left have gone on line. They probably feel that it is much cheaper to put together a website. I can’t blame them, not enough off the street customers to pay for the rent. Can you imagine how useless that is to somebody like me? I mean, knitting is a hands-on occupation for us serious knitters. So is choosing your materials. I feel the same about the E-reader, but that’s another story.

The trouble is that we are a throwaway society. There’s no point spending hours on creating something when it’s likely to last as long as the next season. One by one those arts and crafts are dying. There’s nobody around to pass them on to the next generation. I mean who knows how to tat these days? There was a glimmer of hope a few years ago when some film star bimbo knitted herself a scarf. Every woman and her dog jumped on the bandwagon, (remember that fantasy wool? It looked fantastic but was hell to knit if you dropped a stitch). It was only a fad.

I don’t want to be an old stick in the mud about it…well actually I do. I have grandchildren now. Their parents expect me to get my knitting needles out of hock. I have commissions galore and need to talk to somebody about a Shaker Rib and reversible knitting stitches.