Knit one, purl one

I've been concentrating very hard recently at 88. Knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one. I am learning to knit. My knitting guru is my friend, Joy. Knitter and crocheter extraordinaire, she has taken on the challenge of passing on her knitting know-how. I am enjoying it. My husband calls me 'Granny Blakeley' but I believe I am dead on trend, taking up the knitting cause.

Tackling rib

My Mum was a great knitter from the days when she and her sister would go out on a Friday night and she would knit a short-sleeved jumper each and my auntie, a professional seamstress, would run up a skirt each. She tried to teach me when I was young but I would either add or lose stitches very recklessly and eventually I gave up. But it has all come back to me vaguely, a bit like a knitting echo from the past and my fingers have stepped back into the rhythm. The nearest I have come to a knitting needle in recent years is my handy needle by the oven which I plunge into cakes to see if they are cooked and which by the way is also very effective in loosening lego pieces which won't come apart with bare hands.

Joy, my guru, has great plans for me but after my initial practice, I think I'll embark on squares and make up a blanket....of course it may all come asunder if I have to use one of the needles to prize that lego apart.