I wish I could knit and/or crochet. I have all the equipment and am not an uncoordinated person but no matter how hard I try, the ability to create something other than a knotted mess out of a ball of wool continues to elude me.
Don’t panic, I don’t want to knit and wear nanna jumpers, that’s not really my style. Last year I found on Monster Crochet the kind of woolly creations I have always wished existed (monstercrochet.blogspot.com). Severed fingers, bats, bacon scarves and the like. She has a pattern for a bandsaw scarf with blood smeared down the serrated blade that I dream of having the simple skills to complete.
It’s not like it isn’t in my genes. Tucked away safely, too fragile to continue to be used after all these years, is the blanket my dad crocheted when I was small. I have never seen him pick up a crocheting hook since, but the blanket remains as evidence of his hidden skill.
It’s not only him, my Nan was a wonderful knitter of anything woolly and my mum can magic up a jumper apparently without paying the slightest attention to what she is doing. Surely this skill couldn’t have skipped a generation? That would be quite a cruel fate as I have no daughter to send to her grandparents to train up in order to make the scarf I am desperate to possess. Yes I have sons, but unless something changed since I started writing this post they have little interest in creating anything other than a mess using wool and sticks.
If only when my nan died her wonderful skills had magically passed to me sort of like an endowment from a fairy godmother. I don’t know if she would be too happy about her talents being used for creating things such as the amusing severed fingers though…