Welcome back to Take Me Back Tuesdays, where we take a look at the past as revealed through Things I Found In Op Shops. I had a couple of contenders for this edition of Take Me Back Tuesdays, but they were rudely shoved aside when I stepped into a Healesville op shop and found this particular mystery.
Knitting & Sewing
For a moment there, I considered starting this post in mysterious fashion, talking about how my latest sewing project isn’t going to be for me and should take less time because I’ll be sewing for someone a lot smaller than me. Two smaller someones, in fact.
Then I realised everyone would probably think I was pregnant with twins, so I decided to give the cryptic approach a miss and come straight out with it: I’m going to play with dolls.
This Saturday marks a fortnight of being in our new house. It also marks a fortnight since I last knitted something or worked on my latest sewing project and this is driving me insane. Watching TV without some knitting to hand feels like an utter waste.
Part of the problem is that I need to buy some new wool to keep going on one of my projects; the other problem lies in the fact that we have A View and it’s rather tempting at times to simply sit there and stare at it.
But can you blame me when it does things like this?
Things have been a little quiet around here lately and a lot of the blame can be laid at the doorstep of a huge change I’m doing my best to ignore. I mean, moving house isn’t that big a deal, is it? It pretty much happens by itself, right?
Oh, but it doesn’t and I don’t know where to start (despite moving four times in the past ten years). So I’ve been burying myself in knitting and denial, both of which are progressing splendidly.
In fact, the knitting is going so splendidly that I’m currently in the middle of this:
Sometimes I just need to come here and shout, “Look what I got!” because I have so much excitement in me that I have to share it before I explode.
Remember a little while back when I recommended that you let your family and friends know you’re a mad keen collector of porcelain cats? Or 1970s pottery? Or doilies? Or whatever it might be? Well I am back with further proof that it’s the best course of action in the form of a stack of vintage patterns I received from my mother-in-law the other day. There I was, walking down the hall after sorting out a television issue when I spotted an interesting pile of paper that caused my vintage knitting pattern radar to go off.
“My vintage knitting pattern radar just went off,” I said to the aforementioned mother-in-law. I always find it’s best to utter your inner thoughts aloud if you want other people to be aware of them.
“Oh yes, they’re for you,” she said.
This blog has been going for over fifty posts now and I think I’ve reached a level where I’m comfortable enough to admit some things to you all. In this spirit of sharing and openness, I have a confession to make: I first started collecting old knitting patterns for the lols.
I didn’t even own a single pair of knitting needles.
I thought I was going to stick to crochet forever.
But seriously, old knitting patterns, especially from the sixties and seventies, are full of the most amazing craziness you are ever likely to see. This craziness reaches a whole new level when it comes to crochet pattern books, however.