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.

Laundered loveliness

Does anything smell as wonderful as fresh sheets, dried by the breeze? Thank goodness we are now in the season we can put washing on the clothes line. My Mum (88) always used to wax lyrical about the sun shining and a gentle breeze and washing on the line.  I used to look at her and think "Oh dear" but I know what she means now. Just as I now realise how a cup of tea can be refreshing even on a hot day - turns out Mums do know best. There is something supremely satisfying about washing, drying, putting away all within the day. My Mum would also air as well. She would just put the line dried washing for a last airing round the fire or in the airing cupboard after taking it off the line. Then and only then was it ready to fold away. I, on the other hand, am a bit slovenly with my airing - I rarely do it. And don't even talk to me about ironing.

Towels drying today

Funny what you remember about a simple thing like washing on the line from home all those years ago. I can remember the pole for holding the washing line up at one end always lent at a precarious angle until Dad retired and had the time to straighten it. It never did seem quite right for it to be ramrod straight. The clothes prop to elevate the washing skywards was an old wooden one with a fork at the top rather like a snake's tongue.  I can remember my mum running out when it started raining and depending on how hard it was precipitating (being polite there!) dictated whether the pegs were put back neatly in the basket or thrown willy-nilly on the grass. Talking of which.....is that raindrops I see...........