The new cupboard

The ladies of Clicking Needles were apoplectic with excitement today. Petrina had cleared out a cupboard and designated it for the sole use of storing the bags of donated wool, which later would be spun into items for charity.

Sylvia and Glenys were carefully sorting out the wools by colour and bagging them, only to stop every few minutes as another Clicking Needles knitter arrived and they battled to be the first to show off their good fortune.

‘Look! We have our own cupboard! No more clambering up the step ladder!’

Having spent many hours myself up said step ladder trying to prevent bags of four ply and double knit from tumbling on my head while I foraged for black fluffy wool to knit up hair (yes, that’s not a typo) or a pair of elusive 5mm needles, I quite understood why this was a momentous step forward in the evolution of Clicking Needles.

As each arrived, Jeanette, Ivy, Karen, Theresa, Doreen, and Gillian all ooh-ed and aah-ed and went and made a careful examination of the cupboard – which, it should be noted, had been in the same place for a long time but just not as a repository for wool – before settling around the long table for a gossip over the clicketty-clack of a dozen sets of needles.

I established that the current knitathon for charity is to make a variety of miniature hats to put on the tops of bottles and sell for a premium in Sainsburys supermarkets. This is stranger than fiction. Apparently Scots will pay extra for a smoothie drink with a wee knitted hat on top.

Armed with patterns for a mini hat with flower, a mini hat with sheep’s head and a mini hat like a baby’s bonnet, I raided the new cupboard for a selection of 8-ply and some eyelash yarn (well, that’s what the instructions call for).

Then I cornered Karen who is an oracle on everything from felting to lacework, to get some advice about how to rectify my latest effort – a jumper, which for some unaccountable reason ended up with sleeves that look like over-hormoned mutton legs that could easily fit three arms.

“I think you better post it to me and I’ll see what I can do,” she said with a sigh, and then proceeded to teach me basic crocheting.

When I showed her the next project I am planning to embark upon (a rather fetching sweater with intricate collarwork) she nodded sagely and offered to give me a private lesson in the magic loop system. I plan to secretly take tuition first on YouTube because the fear of failure amongst such talent is intense.

“I’ve picked up so many wee tips since I’ve been coming to Clicking Needles,” said Ivy, who was listening intently.

“Yes, and none of them about knitting!” said Karen, tartly, to hoots of laughter.

Gillian was sitting quietly, biding her time. Then with a flourish she triumphantly pulled a package from her bag, knowing she had something the rest of us would covet and admire.

“This was a birthday present from my friend,” she said and reverently placed a glossy, hard-backed book on the table, filled with patterns for knitted dogs and cats, and two skeins of grey mottled wool which are apparently a close match for her tabby. The book passed from hand to hand, with gasps of glee and – let’s be frank – blatant envy.

Not to be outdone, Jeanette casually slid her latest pattern book from her bag - pages and pages of designs for tea cosies, most of which defy description. Just imagine pouring your cuppa from a pot decorated with a woolly hat that has a washing line of clothes hanging from it, or topped with an evil looking, tentacled octopus.

For now, I’m sticking with my bottletops (Prototype No. 1):