This is knitting/crochet-related, honest…
Sooner or later, the Tyrannical Twinnage are going to grow up sufficiently to develop social sensibilities and notice what a colossal embarrassment their mother is. For now, they’re young enough that I could, frankly, pitch up at school to collect them wearing full clown regalia* and they’d scarcely bat an eyelid. Long may these days last, because I fear that their teenage selves are going to be a bit less awestruck by the fact that Mummy (or ‘Mum’ as I’ve already become, it seems: they’re four, for heaven’s sake) can do a silly dance whilst balancing a pair of socks on her head. Heaven knows what I’ll have left to impress them with in a few years’ time, because the sock-dance is about as accomplished as I get.
Anyway, as you may be gathering from these pictures, for now I get to be that weirdo woman who strides the half mile through the village to collect the twinnage knitting or crocheting happily as I walk, sometimes in the sun, sometimes in the rain, and sometimes humming a tune. And whilst I’m not narcissistic enough to think that anyone who isn’t a blood relative cares about this, I know that one day, the twinnage will start to care very much, and any reports of maternal weirdness will get back to them and will force them to punish me by spending a week holed up in their bedroom refusing all contact with me or school, and smoking crack cocaine. Can you tell that I’m a little wary of the teenage years?
In the meantime, let’s celebrate maternal weirdness. I’ll happily French-knit in the pouring rain:-
And manipulate a huge knitted blanket whilst ambling in the sunshine:-
And I’m not afraid of puddles when I’m knitting:-
…Because unlike those non-knitters who say, “Oooh, I could never do that: I don’t have the patience”, I’ve found that knitting satisfies my impatience by giving me something useful to do whilst walking, talking, or doing anything else that doesn’t involve hands. And until the twinnage formally threaten to disown me for my behaviour, I’m going to make good use of the walk up to school by completing a couple of rounds of my work-in-progress. So there.
Surely I can’t be alone in this?
*Ain’t gonna happen. I have a lifelong aversion to clowns.