Here's a poem by Pablo Neruda on handknit socks:- Mara Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted herself with her sheepherder's hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as if they were two cases knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin, Violent socks, my feet were... Continue Reading →
... who has tomatoes still on the vine in November? And this despite having gone with plants rather than seeds this year too! ... whose first pair of hand-knitted socks fit after all?
Babies seem to be like buses. They all come along at once. Other friends of ours have also recently hatched. There are reasons why it takes nine months for a baby to hatch. It’s so that knitters get a chance to knit whatever they’re plotting to foist upon the unsuspecting, innocent wee victim. I hadn’t... Continue Reading →
You remember that I showed you the other day that I'd managed to do some knitting in the round, on DPNs? Well that little test was just that, a little test that was never going to be something but it gave the confidence to try a something, a proper knitting pattern. Now the most obvious... Continue Reading →
I've noticed a trend in men's socks: the need for the days of the week to be emblazoned across the leg of the sock. I've never seen any socks like this for women (but don't get me started on the ditzy slogans that are far too common on those). Nor even for children who you'd... Continue Reading →