Ahem. I have been a poor knitter-alonger. Firstly I have no idea how to get the button on the right sidebar to work. (Insert pathetic plea for technical help, HERE).
But. But! I have thus far completed the yoke, one sleeve and am halfway through the second sleeve. All tricky bits have been successfully avoided to date. So ashamed.
The reason for the interruption (apart from essays and broken limbs and visits from ASIO regarding bomb-making instructions on the internet) is that Son #3 requested a handknitted jumper for winter. Two actually. As the elder two boys are now at the ages where Mum’s Home Knitting doesn’t have quite the same street cred as it used to, I jumped at this precious chance to knit for a willing offspring and abandoned Pearl with nary a backward glance. I was so keen to get going, I grabbed the 12 ply redcurrant yarn in my stash (it was meant to be a fisherman’s rib jumper for Mr Soup last winter) and shrieked Here’s a pattern! And it would look lovely in red! Yes!? And quickly cast on before the child could change his mind. Literally, from his first tentative utterance to yarn-meets-needle was about seven minutes.
I have already done both sleeves and the back, and this is the casting on for the front. I love children’s knitting – so quick and satisfying. Particularly in 12 ply.
And here’s the (very old) pattern. I’m not enamoured of the bobbly bits but he was adamant. I have altered the ribbing to become six rows stocking stitch followed by ten rows rib, to make it a little more modern.
Speaking of things being very old, want to see something funny? Here is the front of the same pattern book.
Can you spot my brother?
I’m not in this one, but if you pick up any Australian Patons knitting pattern from the 1970s (and they are all starting to appear in op shops now) you will see my brother and I, in all our blonde cheesy-grinned glory.
I tried to get Son #3 to choose the jumper his Uncle J is wearing as it doesn’t have strange bobbly bits, but he wasn’t having a bar of it. Oh well. No accounting for the taste of a small boy.