a knitted life

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My earliest memories of knitting are so deeply ingrained that they are a part of me. I’ve been a poor sleeper since I was a baby and my mother would sit next to my cot, and in later years – next to my bed, knitting.

The soft click of her needles would eventually lull me to sleep. The clicking of needles makes a song. It still calms me like nothing else can.

I learnt to knit from my mother and grandmother when I was five years old. I’d trail behind them, dangling stitches – which they good-naturedly fixed for me.

My mother knitted the blue dress.

smoke and knit

Wishbone Yarn is my Rose Hip Jam. The film industry is my Bread and Butter.

This frustrated Graphic Designer became a Set Decorator by trade, and a knitter and dyer with passion. Somehow it’s in my bones – it’s in my fingers and my blood.

I have spent an inordinate amount of time dreaming about this yarn lark of mine. I wished upon a star, I pulled that lucky wishbone…

Finally the pieces are falling into place.