I have occasionally been known to knit things.

You know. Sometimes.

Sometimes my knitting needles have to be prised from my claw-like grip, which some people might use as a reason to claim that I knit “too much”.

These people are not knitters. Knitters know that there is no such thing as “too much” knitting, much like there is no such thing as “too much” yarn (even if, last night, you had to share the bed with your new Araucania Limari yarn) (I regret nothing).

I like to knit small things, because I have the attention span of an alcoholic goldfish. Mostly it’s socks (not helpful for the goldfish in my brain, but very nice for my feet), some gloves, a few hats, a chunky scarf or two.

I tend to follow other people’s patterns or, as with socks and gloves, just use the ones that live in my head after so many years of knitting them.

I did write a sock pattern from the February Lady lace, and am wearing them right now. Well, I say “wrote”. I made it up. If I was less impatient I could have just found this pattern and made it shorter. It would have saved a lot of math-induced swearing, and one very deformed sock.

If you  live in Brighton and my mad ramblings about knitting have intrigued rather than terrified you, I teach knitting during the week (and sometimes on weekends if you ask nicely).