Knitting as memory
Last year we had a precious few days away in the Outer Hebrides. I had wanted to go for years. We hired a campervan and drove and ferried and kept on driving to the edge of the world. It was a special snatched few days of sun and wind and the simple, slightly uncomfortable but ultimately calming life that is life in a van, away from home, with nothing to do but look and listen and walk and read and eat. I have almost lost it now, under the huge tides of this winter with my mother's death and my father's illness and the care of my father in law and the flood of need. Almost but not quite. While we were away I bought some wool from the Hebridean Woolshed , handspun fine Merino in the colours of the seas around South Uist. Here it is far away from home on my kitchen table in Wales. I was going to make a cowl with it but after a couple of false starts I decided I wanted to have a go at doing something of my own, not a pattern or a design made by so...