Last week I had me knittin’ needles confiscated at Swindon County Court. The week before I had chatted with security about their new technique of searching handbags with a chopstick, which was as I correctly guessed, to avoid accidents with needles. Hence I was not surprised when the security guard very discreetly asked me if I would mind terribly if she looked after my knitting. Not discreetly enough mind you : the queue sniggered at the oddness of a besuited red lipsticked woman (yea yeah – I was on a smart day) with equipment from a shreddies ad…

In more wool related antics, I have today spent more hours than I care to mention making pom poms from black wool (for halloween spiders you know)…It seemed likely to be less frustrating than trying to teach garter stitch to a boy who can’t yet manipulate a pencil (although he is a bloody whizz with an ipad). Such is the burden of being mother to boys whose eyes are bigger than their stomachs when it comes to making things. “Mummy, can you teach me to knit?” sounds like a small enough request, but of course I have had to re-teach myself to do it (last time I knitted I was probably about 8). Thank god for youtube as Grandma has been dead fifteen years. This then is the background to my heinous security breach at Swindon. Pom poms I managed from recall, although I my recollection let me down on scale – leading to  mega pom poms and a lotta winding… Tto give him credit the boy did pitch in and wind his pom pom for a good length of time, but you know how it goes “Mummy can you finish it?”. And so he waned and I wound. And wound…But both boys went to bed with a legless spider with a tuft of white where the black wool ran out (that’s his face mummy). Sixteen legs to make tomorrow…..

All of this is of course one long yarn (fnar) by way of excuse for not blogging. Yes, its the knitting and the small matter of actual work…

I have a confession to make though. There is something totally addictive about the repetitive action of knitting and, to a lesser degree, pom pom winding (I like to make mine tidy). I have yet to reach the inevitable frustration that goes with realising I will never be able to knit consistently well but I was surprised how relaxing I found it as a way of unwinding, taking my mind of things or even of allowing me to think through things. Space to breath I suppose. Like a silent car journey.