Thank goodness for yarn, eh?
No matter what you’re dealing with, there’s a knit or crochet project that’ll help you through. Feeling so stressed that you just gnawed your own leg off through sheer nervous energy? Allow me to recommend a simple ripple blanket. Practically expiring from ennui? Why not intarsia a reproduction of the Mona Lisa in laceweight? (Because it’ll shred your last reserves of sanity, that’s why not.)
I’ve been glad of a couple of easy projects these past few weeks. (Don’t worry, I’m not at the leg-gnawing stage of stress. Anyway, I’m not physically flexible enough to even bite my own toes.) But the easy, mindless rhythm of knitting the simplest of socks has felt comforting. Round, and round, and round: it’s difficult to stop, which is how I ended up with GINORMOSOCK!
Coming to a screen near you soon, GINORMOSOCK 2! …unless I do gnaw my own leg off, in which case the latter won’t be needed. These socks are so long that I’m playing Yarn Chicken in order to finish the second one. The yarn is Stylecraft Head Over Heels, and it knits up beautifully.
This is pure comfort-knitting, and there’s something extra-comforting about oversized, simple, socks. Also, if they’re three sizes too large, it won’t matter when they suffer a slight felting after being accidentally shoved in the washing machine. Yup, that is indeed the world-weary voice of experience you’re hearing, there.
Yup, sock-knitting is a comfort in these bonkers times. As the world gets weirder, the socks get bigger, until the point where I’ll be basically knitting a human-sized cocoon in which to hibernate until everything settles down. Oops, that sounds a little unhinged, and I probably shouldn’t have typed it out loud.
I saw on Instagram that a good few of you have knitted ‘Cowls Against Brexit‘ from my previous post, already. 🙂 I did look out for you at the big march in London last Saturday, but amongst a crowd of one to two million (depending on which estimate you believe), it’s hard to find individuals.
It certainly seemed even more crowded and slow-moving than the last march. As I
shuffled marched, I knitted – of course – but you’d probably guessed that already.
And when we’d reached Parliament Square, and we’d listened to the speeches, and got drenched by a brief-ish rain shower, and dried out again, I walked a good few miles back across central London to catch a train home. The parks were quite pretty in the golden evening sunlight:-
But I’m really not a fan of London, or of cities in general, being at heart a country bumpkin. I live in a village where you mostly say hello to people when you pass them, and where, if you get chatting, you’ll soon be establishing exactly where each other lives. CAN YOU IMAGINE DOING THAT IN CENTRAL LONDON?! (Or in New York / Toronto / Berlin / Sydney etc, because I realize that most of you aren’t in the UK.) You’d probably end up getting arrested.
In London, I have to consciously switch off ‘country bumpkin mode’ in my brain, and remember NOT TO BE WEIRD. It takes a bit of effort.
I still knitted as I walked, though. 🙂
Happy yarnery, people.