Knitting at the Movies

I like cinema enough to hold a season ticket for the Dublin Film Festival; last year I decided to take along my knitting as I like that too.  I opted again for cowls, being relatively non-intrusive work in terms of disturbance of fellow audience members - and to stick with a straightforward pattern involving no contortions of the K5tog kind, or rustling in bags for cable needles

- here are some results.. and that particular red one was made for Siobhán, as hardworking as sweet natured, who slaves away in the festival every year so the rest of us can sit back and enjoy ourselves ...   

Each took five skeins of Paloma on 9mm needles, but I must have been working pink during a tense thriller or harrowing war documentary (for which knitting is remarkably cathartic, by the way). Or maybe that one evolved during one of the movies I really hated because I knit furiously when I'm angry. No matter what the tension, however, there's still something tangible there to show for my time and eradicate the occasional twinge of guilt over whiling away quite so many hours at the movies.

I also discovered that knitting in public can be a lot more controversial than might be imagined -although before I did it, I don't think I really envisaged any reaction at all.  I learned, however, that some people actively sought me and my knitting out, while others positively fled.  Most watched for a while and maybe chatted amiably

- they once were knitters themselves, was a regular remark from women especially;  they'd take it up again too, was another - if only there were time...

- and money, I'd always add, because I like to do my bit to offset the widely held and wrongheaded notion that knitting is linked somehow to thrift and second best. 

I was told many times also - mostly by men - that they found watching someone knit restful - when pressed about why, the answer inevitably boiled down to having had mothers who knit when they were children.  

Once a man accused me of suffering from OCD - and I thought about that, and remarked that even compulsive energy harnessed usefully can't be so bad. He seemed quite disappointed that I wasn't just offended.  Another time I took out my needles, and the lady next to me said in a towering rage "Well if you're going to keep that up once the film starts, I'm sitting somewhere else" and did. ... and glowered back at me from a few seats away ....in a way that made me think she was possibly a bit disappointed I wasn't offended too.  I'd have stopped, if only she'd asked politely. Probably. If I could, of course (...!)

The Road Trip

True Colours Hat by This Is Knit

in Louisa Harding Akiko merino and baby alpaca & Malabrigo Rios pure merino

For David

I had this friend, a guardian angel, who had the sort of attachment to James Joyce’s Ulysses that others have with religion, and David is his brother. He loved Ulysses for many reasons, but above all others for its celebration of the triumph of the common man - where real heroism is found in so-called ordinary lives... in people who repeatedly muster up strength in the face of so-called ordinary problems to go out and fight another day...  in his opinion these were the true stories to merit an epic billing, and I agree completely.

David’s job involves travel and long hours – his older brother used to speak with pride about the skills and endurance it entailed -  I’m hoping that the warmth of this yarn might occasionally come in handy on his journeying.

Time

Uisce from Four Elements by Carol Feller, knit in Debbie Bliss luxury silk dk on 4mm needles

For my neighbour, Lucy

Lucy is a lovely neighbour who, up to a very short time ago, I’d probably have designated as “new”.  I was shocked lately, though, to realise that in fact she’s not “new” at all - doesn't seem possible but already she and her family have been here for three years. And now we're about to lose them - at least as neighbours, if hopefully not friends - because they’re on the brink of moving on to a new life in Belfast…

 Lucy and her family are slightly younger than me and mine, but I've really enjoyed having her about - she’s smart, wonderfully open, honest and direct – the sum of which in my estimation adds up to cool.   I picked this shawlette pattern to make for her not only because of its grace of design, or the fact I felt that Lucy (who is tall) could wear it as a scarf (or any way she likes, for that matter!), but also because it’s from the province of Ulster, where she’s now bound.

When I was growing up, every news bulletin about Belfast seemed to emanate little but tragedy and sadness, and most southerners were in no hurry to go there. Yet now, if ever an example of goodness prevailing were called for, you'd go a long way before you'd better the present-day relish and bounce of Belfast people.  They know all too well what the diametric opposite means, and the magic wrought by time and good people has restored Belfast to its rightful position - somewhere heightened sensibilities can make things really happen in the very best sense.  And with no disrespect to those who suffered, vestiges of hypercaution and other scars of the past can even begin to seem a little funny now   - for instance, a suggestion to take the scenic route might be greeted in certain quarters with a genuinely perplexed:

“Och, why on earth would you want to do that?”;

followed by a proud,

“Sure, why don’t you take the lovely new wee motorway?”  

I wish Lucy and her family good luck in their next adventure and even look forward to being slightly jealous of their new life.