My parents are the king and queen of charity shop shopping and they have trained me well. Our time in these wonderful little havens is generally spent spreading ourselves out, searching for Bob Dylan CDs and Donna Leon books (my dad, not me) and patterns, fabric, buttons and other exciting notions (me and my mum). Once Dad is certain there is nothing left unturned, he’ll wait patiently outside eyeing up the pound shop, while my lovely mum and I continue on our very important mission.
Yes, that is 2.6 metres of pink denim for £3.99 that you see before you! Before that, hooks, eyes, binding and buttons complete with their own tobacco tin (complete with their own tobacco smell) for 50p.
And what’s this? Could it be …
I should have stuck with illustration, look at this fabulous artwork!
So many pretty pictures and saucy ladies looking hot in dressing gowns draped over car bonnets! What’s more, it’s come complete with untouched, well looked after, still in their packet, patterns!
My lovely Mum only went and cracked my biggest fear and showed me how to knit!
Ok, ok, I know it doesn’t look like much, but to me it isn’t a long, acrylic based scarf type ‘thing’ full of errors and missed stitches. To me it’s a thing of beauty, an art form, a much longed for skill (seriously!) and if you’ve read this post before, you’ll know why.
I can’t actually cast off yet, so it may be a very long scarf for an unsuspecting doll (if I can find one). My parents had to leave in the end. They were worn out from my demanding charity shop regime and quite frankly I think I frightened them with my ability to simultaneously knit and jump for joy. Knitting needles in hands whilst leaping about hugging and squealing shouldn’t be allowed.
Gosh, I’m exhausted … By the way, can anyone recommend a good knitting book for beginners?