Precious Things....

When Tom Baker, the fourth Doctor Who, got into the large lift at BBC Television Centre he would gaze at the array of buttons with his googly eyes and say, "Now where would you like to go?" He always got a laugh. My mother had a laugh too, when I said I wanted to knit myself a scarf like Tom Baker's.  In brief, as opposed to the scarf which was very very long, every time I put it down, my grandmother or mother would pick it up and undo my holey bits and compensate by knitting six rows more. I fear I have mentioned this previously, but the chances are that neither you or I can remember. So we're good?

Anyway, knitting and all other fine craft work skipped my generation. I wasn't overly hopeful of the knitting genes untangling in the next. Dearest daughter showed a small inclination ten years ago in an attempt to engage with her M-in-Law. Not a good combination. Lethal weapon in same room as husband's mother. It was the knitting that died the death. Which is possibly a good thing.

So when Son-et-lumiere decided he needed to engage his brain during recreation, he thought of knitting. It is not something I would have thought of, personally, but then I am blessed with a brain that goes into snooze mode on command.  I bought him the needles and the wool (like the Good Mother that I am) as we still have a Wool shop in our village. And equipped with a You Tube video he cast-on. Never been able to do that. And as for How-to videos.. never got me anywhere with my pom-poms. I'm delighted to report that his scarf is coming on a treat. (I'm also relieved that I won't find it in my Christmas stocking.. not the Good Mother.)

This week I finally got round to laundering the baby knitting I'd retrieved from Buckingham on a previous purge. This consisted of two shawls: an everyday one and one for special occasions, and the christening gown. All made by Grandma Leyshon for her first grandchild. Last worn by my granddaughter eleven years ago.
I find it hard to put them away, because I have been enjoying their intricate beauty. I will write a note with them so that whoever looks at them next will have a record of their history. In the meantime, they have been recorded in a Bunion blog.
Sublime in the ridiculous, really.