And now for something completely different.
Or, translated into ‘Yarn-speak… Fear ye not, my fine furry friends, for there are wonders of much newness to be witnessed here on the Yarn, today.
Whilst I’ve been knitting snuggly mitts with the Yarnstories yarn (exhibit A below – proper ‘ta-da’ post coming soon)….
…I’ve also been quietly preparing a new feature for this site, that will be making an appearance from time to time in amongst the usual knitty, crochety, outdoorsy shenanigans. And that feature is a…
Yup good people, please permit me to introduce the column henceforth to be known as KNOTTY PROBLEMS. Understand-ye that this is not a normal problem page, nor a source of technical know-how. No, it is to be something far more useful: a page specifically for the angst that occurs when knitting/crochet meets the real world.
So having thrown open our letterbox to suffering knitting correspondents across the globe, we were deluged, I tell you, with your worries and dilemmas. Poor Colin-The-Postie worked up a proper hernia from heaving sacks of mail up the hill to our house, and our little letterbox developed repetitive strain injury and has gone off sick.
Fortunately we received this gem before the letterbox gave up completely, so I can now present you with our first KNOTTY PROBLEM.
Lola from London writes: “Dear TheTwistedYarn, I knitted a beautiful fairisle jumper for my hubby. It took ages, and I was soooo proud of the finished result!!!! Hubby says that although he likes it, it’s too small, so he can’t wear it. Help!!!!”
THETWISTEDYARN REPLIES: I hear ya, sista, but fret-ye-not, and take those superfluous multiple exclamation marks away because they’re giving me a headache. You, m’dear, are in the very fortunate position of having options. Multiple options. This, like many problems, is merely a matter of perception. So, you could regard your jumper as too small – which is tricky to fix – or your husband as too large. Instantly, a whole range of new possibilities opens up.
Did your dear husband (please, do desist from calling him ‘hubby’ – it’s too twee) perhaps partake excessively of the Yuletide pudding? If so, you’ve nowt to worry about, because he now has a moral obligation to shrink. You see, by agreeing to be measured up for knitwear, he is effectively entering into a legally(ish)-binding contract to remain exactly the same size until you’ve finished knitting the thing, even if it takes you three years to finish (because let’s face it, fairisle can be fiddly). I’m no lawyer, but I’m almost certain of my facts here.
Your second – and much quicker – option is to divorce his bulging girth and find a new husband of the exact proportions of your exquisite jumper. Come with me, let’s look out of the window a moment at the street below. Look! What do you see? People, yes? Lots and lots of people of every imaginable size and shape. Someone out there will be the perfect size to wear your lovely jumper, even if you did – and you’ll forgive me for pointing this out – knit one sleeve longer than the other.
It’s like Cinderella, innit? Instead of a glass slipper, your task is to find the man who will fit this jumper: the man with a 34-inch chest and one arm longer than the other. That man is out there somewhere, and he is your soulmate. The yarn has spoken, and one must always heed the yarn.
Simple, no? Do let us know how you get on.