Knitting and the gentle art of debate

In todays whirl of social media where what we see is increasingly filtered to our likes I wonder whether we are, to some extent, losing the art of gentle debate. The to and fro of discussion, the striving to listen and to understand another's point of view or an alternative opinion to our own.

Every so often a topic crops up on the interwebs which is a so-called hot topic. Something that people invariably have strong views on. On both sides. We aren't talking global politics here - although sometimes we are, but even something as seemingly innocuous as charity knitting or the size of one's stash can often raise peoples hackles and cause tension and dissent.

A lot of that seems to stem from the fact that people want to keep their knitting "just for fun" and don't want it "spoilt" by other people who are ruining it for them. The idea that anyone could say something that would "ruin" knitting for me is a little odd though because after all we have the choice in how we respond to other other's opinions.

Discussion of this nature is often followed by calls to keep the group "all about the knitting" but surely that would lead to a fairly bland and homogenous mix of knitwear. Don't get me wrong, I love knitting as much as the next person but wouldn't an endless parade of knitted blankets and shawls with the "lovely" comments be just as boring and annodyne. 

Whoever said that variety is the spice of life had the right idea and we all need a bit of spice every now again to get us thinking and more importantly to get us listening.

In one of the moments of pure serendipity that I just love about the internet, just as I was setting this to 'publish' I was listening to Emma Gannon's podcast Ctrl-Alt-Delete. She had a terrific interview with June Sarpong - British TV presenter who has a new book just out called Diversify. The idea is that we should all take the time to listen to and understand people who are not like us and who don't think the same as us. If we spend time just within our cosy bubble - whether that be politics or knitting - then we never learn anything new and we never change.

Death by scarf

Recently I came across a newbie knitter and I was thrilled to be able to point him (yes, him) in the direction of all things knitty related. A quick glance at a few Brooklyn Tweed and TinCan Knits patterns was all it took and he was soon cranking out amazing hats and planning many more ambitious projects with gusto.

One thing that struck me though was the advice he had received from well meaning knitters in his circle of friends who, without exception, had recommended starting with some something simple like a "nice garter stitch scarf".

Now, I don't know about you but the thought of knitting 5 or 6 feet of plain garter stitch is enough to make me run for the hills. Why on earth do we persist in this well meaning advice and not accept that new knitters can handle a multitude of techniques. They don't know if something is 'hard' unless you tell them it is. Circular needles and knitting in the round aren't just the preserve of more experienced knitters. After all, if you can cast on and master the knit stitch you can work a rolled brim, stockinette beanie. Learn the purl stitch and you can add in a ribbed brim. Feel brave and try a cable - the possibilities are endless and sure to be more satisfying than slogging away on a flat, 6 foot garter stitch scarf.

It's been some time since I learnt to knit (putting it mildly) so it can be hard to think back to those scary days when you felt like you had more than your fair share of thumbs, and more awkward than a giraffe on roller skates. But as with so many things in life we learn from doing, not by slogging through an endurance event.

And, in my humble opinion, knitting 6 feet of garter stitch only teaches you about persistence and the strength of the human spirit - very little about knitting. So why not be brave and help a new knitter out - introduce them to some fabulous yarn, decent needles and a peruse of the internet. They will be eternally grateful and you could help save them from death by scarf!

Celebrating the imperfect

It's something that I've noticed for a while and it's one of those things that once you've noticed it you see it everywhere. Women belittling their achievements be they large or small. Working in the science sector I'm well used to seeing women overlooked and also overlooking their own achievements but I see it in everyday life too and specifically in knitting.

I've noticed a recent "thing" where women are seemingly happy to show off their latest knitting project but feel compelled to point out its errors and "flaws". Why on earth do we do this to ourselves. Even worse, why do we post something and actively draw attention to it in a sort of "spot the ball" competition.

There's a well known knitting quote which I think is attributed to Elizabeth Zimmerman but has also been used by Stephanie Pearl Mc-Phee to the effect that if the mistake won't be noticed by a man on a galloping horse then it's absolutely fine to leave it. There is a 99% chance that it won't be noticed by anyone be they knitter or non-knitter (known as muggles to you and me).

I have to admit that I'm definitely of the school where frogging or ripping something back to correct a mistake is absolutely a last resort. Even things such as a mis-crossed cable I can generally live with unless it is really 'front and centre'. But whilst I'm happy to live with it I certainly wouldn't go around pointing it out to friends and acquaintances. 

Flaws and imperfections are what makes us human surely? Handmade objects are made with love and care and yes, the odd imperfection (or design element, as I prefer to think of them) is part and parcel of what makes them special. Anyone can have an Aran sweater, but only you will have one with a slightly wibbly cable on the left sleeve.

Something for the weekend

After the success of my "cowl in a weekend" project it got me thinking about how I use my time at weekends and how I could make better use of it to focus on things that really matter to me. If you are anything like me, weekends are normally a jumble of doing everything we didn't manage to get done during the week. Add this to the usual hubbub of kids activities, chores and the vague feeling that you should be resting and recuperating for the week ahead - it's no surprise that when Monday rolls around I usually feel like I need another holiday.

Recently I bought the beautiful Making Winter book by Emma Mitchell and I love it's simple premise of focusing on the beauty in small things. Of the power of nature and simple pleasures to lift your spirits and get your thoughts moving in a more positive direction. I decided to do a little comfort baking and made the Plum Blondie recipe from the book. Although of course I never have the right ingredients to hand - so pears and cinnamon were admirable substitutes.

They were delicious and so simple to make. Just a few minutes in the kitchen (well OK - maybe 30 mins - as I had "help" from the kids) and the house was filled with a gratifyingly cakey fug.

Perfect for fuelling my crochet blanket endeavours add I tried to meet my self imposed target of adding 10 stripes this weekend. In the interests of full disclosure I have to add that I only managed 6 (but it still totally counts as progress in my book).

So, I now have a cunning plan for the coming winter months. Each weekend I'm going to try and pick something simple and achievable to do. Something for me, something to make me feel I can sit back and say that I've achieved something positive this weekend. Whether that be baking, whipping up a quick chunky knit or doing a nature walk with the kids. 

If winter is coming - bring it on.

Can you knit a cowl in a weekend?

I didn't plan to knit a cowl in a weekend, it sort of just happened.

It was Saturday morning and whilst I didn't exactly have all of my weekend knitting plans finely honed I did have a number of things I was keen to make progress on. Then my eye fell on a fairly new addition to my stash. A skein of plump, purple merino DK from the Countess Ablaze yarn club - The Classics Society. A fabulous mix of dark and light purple with the odd jolt of bright blue. 

Before you could say "swift" I had the skein wrapped around my knees to hand wind it and I got it on my needles straight away. I'm not much of a hat person and with only 225m to play with I didn't have enough for a shawl - so I decided to go for a cowl. The Honey Cowl pattern to be precise. I've made a few of these before and it's a lovely fast pattern to knit. And the slip stitches work really well with hand dyed yarn.

It turned out to be the type of project that you just can't put down. Never mind, just one more row, I'd done a couple of inches before it was time to head out for the morning. A quick trip to the local farm shop where I seized the opportunity to buy some lovely home made ready meals (no cooking equals extra knitting time).

Then it was home for the kids to watch a film and me to put my feet up with my Kindle and crack on with my cowl. It really is amazing how much knitting you can get through when you focus on just one thing - and it helps if the yarn is as delicious to work with as this. As soft and plump as a Flump's behind.

There really are very few things to compete with the thrill of being able to face a cold, dark October morning snuggled up in something you have made yourself, with your own two hands. It really is particularly satisfying.

And now I find myself casting around for my next weekend project - matching mitts maybe?

Socktober

October really seems to have crept up on me this year and I can't quite believe we are in to Socktober already. Particularly bad planning on my part as I have 2 shawl patterns on the needles and an alpaca cardigan to finish.

I can't leave the day unmarked though so I'll be raiding my stash and casting on a new pair before the day is out. Even if they don't get finished for a while at least they will be on the needles.

Over on the Everyday Knitter Facebook group our monthly challenge is of course related to socks. There are a few sock novices who will be taking the plunge with their very first pair, as well as more experienced sock knitters who are setting themselves all manner of fun challenges. A tiny bit of my brain (the bit that is wildly over enthusiastic and fuelled by coffee) thought about trying to knit as many pairs as I could this month. Then, thankfully the more rational bit of my brain pointed to the aftermentioned knitting pile in progress and suggested that this might not be one of my better ideas.

Anyway, whatever your level of sock expertise I do hope you'll pop over to the group to join in. Even if you just lurk I hope you will pick up lots of ideas for inspiration and share our love for the way of the handknit sock.