The Knitting Lesson

 I'm teaching a colleague how to knit. 

To me, knitting is an extension of myself. I've been doing it since I was child. I've been knitting myself jumpers and other things since I was a teenager. I can do cables, and lace patterns at a push - although I can't be asked to do things like Fair Isle - that's a bit too much for my head. 

Regardless, tonight, at family dinner, I sat down with my colleague on another colleague's balcony (because it was family dinner night - where we get a chook bag, some salad and other bits and pieces and wash it down with a gin and tonic in somebody’s apartment) and started them on the process. 

Anybody who's learned to knit knows you have to start easily. There was no way I was going to bamboozle them with learning how to cast on or do purl stitch. For the moment, we'll stick to the plain old knit stitch. Purl will come in a few weeks. First we’ll let their hands get used to the yarn and the needles. 

I cast on 20 stitches of the chunky wool onto a set of bigger needles - 5 mm needles. Not too big, not too small. Then, I did a couple of rows to start them off. As any knitter knows, the first few rows is when you find your feet, but you have to find your tension. 

Then came the instruction part. 

"First, it's about relaxing your hands. In your left hand, hold the needle with the work on it. In your right, hold the knitting needle like a pen. I'll teach you about wool tension in a bit. But do try to relax your hands. "

They did as I instructed. 

"Now, let's make a stitch. It's in three parts. It's a crime scene."

"What?" They were bemused. Knitting seems like such a calm and placid hobby.

"Well, first you stab it, then you strangle it, then you loop the noose."

"What are you talking about?"

I thought this was an ingenious way to teach somebody to knit. 

"I'll show you."

I took up my own knitting. 

"First you stab it." I hooked the first stitch onto the empty needle. 

"Then you strangle it. Wrap the wool around the needle from the back." I demonstrated. They copied my example. 

"Then you loop the noose." The new stitch was formed on the needle. 

"Then you repeat. And repeat. Until the end of the row."

I watched as they concentrated making the stitches. "Stab it, strangle it, loop the noose." I heard them mutter under their breath.

We knitted, while chatting with our other colleague, and having a gin and tonic, and watching the sunset over Cullen Bay. 

"It gets easier. This is all muscle memory."

"I can see that. You don't even look at what you're doing."

"I do sometimes. I watch and count when I do cables. It's like a meditation."

"Is that why you knit in meetings? » 

"Partly. It's fun to attend meetings when you're knitting. Nobody has to know that in your head you're repeating the words, "Stab it, strangle it, loop the noose..."

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