Just keep knitting

I'm embracing a comforting new hobby (plus, read The Lido for 99p!)

Learning to knit feels a soothing way to see out the last of the winter

It feels as though it has been raining for about ten years. Here in Somerset, the fields are flooded and the sun has been hidden for weeks behind heavy grey clouds.

I find this last bit of winter a real slog. It might be March today (hurrah!) but spring still feels a long way away. I keep telling myself that the sunshine will return, and have brought branches of blossom and jam jars full of narcissi in from the garden to help remind me of brighter days to come.

If you’re also experiencing a bit of a slump right now then here’s a little treat for you… The Lido Kindle edition is currently on sale for 99p. Now is the perfect time to read or re-read my first book ahead of the publication of its follow up The Lifeline which comes out in April.

Something that is helping me through this last dark stretch of winter has come in the surprising form of knitting needles and balls of bright red wool…

The unexpected joy and comfort of learning to knit

Knitting helps me find a state of flow

When one of my favourite people in the world passed away last year, there were a few things of hers that I desperately wanted. A mug that I gave her as a child. A scarf that still smelt like her. And bags full of her knitting needles and wool.

I have the mug sitting on my desk right now. It is white and has the word ‘Love’ in pink and red letters. I use it for the many cups of herbal tea I drink throughout the day, mostly to keep my hands warm as I write. Every time I drink from it I picture her and smile at the thought of her teasing me for using the mug for peppermint tea instead of the rocket fuel coffee she always favoured.

The scarf keeps me warm too but the knitting things were perhaps a more surprising momento. I can’t knit. At least, I couldn’t until a few weeks ago. I’d never been especially interested in learning. Or perhaps I thought it was the kind of thing I might ask her to teach me in the future, in that background sort of way you do when you’ve never considered that ‘the future’ might not arrive.

Her husband was happy to pass the knitting things on to me so I took it all. Bags filled with wool and needles and pattern books written in a language I don’t yet understand.

I’ve started small. My mother-in-law gave me a lesson and right now all I can do is knit. Back and forth, rows and rows of the same stitch. But I love it.

As the needles clack and I hold the soft wool between my fingers I feel as though the threads are connecting me to the person I loved.

I like to listen to audiobooks while I knit (most recently The Keys to Kindness by Claudia Hammond), or perhaps watch something soothing in the background like Gilmore Girls or Schitt’s Creek. Sometimes I just sit and knit, letting my mind wander.

During life’s hard moments I find it helps to have something to do with your hands. Kneading dough for a fresh loaf of bread. Stirring cake mix. Turning the pages of a book. Colouring neatly between the lines in a way that is satisfyingly easy to do in a colouring book if less so in life. And now I have knitting.

When I really get into the rhythm of it I can even tune out my thoughts entirely, getting out of my head and into my hands. In that way, knitting feels a bit like writing, when my fingers speed along the keyboard without much conscious thought.

I’m not sure how my first knitting project will turn out. It might be a mess. And I might never learn the language of those pattern books. But I don’t really think that matters. The hours I spend on this new hobby aren’t wasted. They feel like a silent conversation: me, the knitting needles and the woman who once owned them. Love threaded into every stitch.

My very special mug

P.S. If you live near Guildford, don’t miss out on the Guildford Book Festival’s Spring Readers’ Day on 28th April where I will be joining a host of fabulous authors to talk about books and writing.