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This week, I shall be mostly doing wool. Fleece, yarn, ply – a whole new world is opening up! I learnt to knit when I was a child, but never kept it up. Mum was a champion knitter – she could watch telly, hold a conversation, make the tea, and all the while her fingers would be a blur, and another creation would emerge from the needles. We had the lot as children, Aran sweaters, fingerless mittens, and when I became a hippy/Goth teenager, the black mohair jumper that got all baggy from me stretching it over my knees in what I hoped was a rebellious, arty, enigmatic pose. I wore that one for years, then left it at a Dave Lee Roth concert - curses, curses.

At the end of August, when the Community Ed leaflet was published, I scanned the pages to see what evening classes were on offer. I don’t know about the other islands, but here in Orkney, come the winter, we have an astonishing array of activities from which to choose. Norwegian? Maybe one day, nice to keep up the Nordic links. Straw work? Been there, done it, made the laundry basket (and some day, hopefully, the Orkney chair, as let’s face it, it’s the only way I’ll ever be able to afford one). Yoga? Always thought it would be a good idea but something holds me back…..could it be because I am the world’s most impatient person? A good reason for doing it, I hear you cry. Whatever. The Esoteric Arts? Done that too, and occasionally read people’s palms at parties, much to my husband’s disdainful amusement. He has never got over the moment on Radio Orkney, when the announcer informed the students of our Esoteric class that we were not to do any astrology this week as there were ‘bad aspects in Saturn’. As an excuse for not doing your homework, that cannot, surely, be beaten. Fibrecraft? Ah! Now we’re talking. Knitting, spinning, peg looms….I could not resist. I got the last place on the course (must be fate…) and sent off my cheque. A week or two later I received a letter, confirming my place on the course and informing me that the first session would be……(drum roll)….the night of my 40th birthday!! How’s about that for a statement of intent? I hit my 5th decade and I learn how to be an old wifey. Hey ho.

The class is great, and I’m learning all sorts of stuff. A friend lent me a spinning wheel to practice at home, and we sat there carding, spinning, gossiping and drinking tea. The cats love the raw fleece and the tortoiseshell Jess is completely camouflaged! My husband came in and laughed, saying it was kind of ironic how much time and energy and money we had spent getting degrees, so we could embark upon good careers, so we could earn money to BUY KNITTED GOODS. We threw the carders at him and told him to put the kettle on, saying that he knew full well that was NOT THE POINT.

My first go at spinning in the class revealed to my fellow fibrecrafters just how many swear words I know. After an hour and a half of cursing, I managed to spin continuously for about 10 seconds and I was extremely chuffed. It’s a lovely feeling, once you get into a rhythm, and it’s so nice to feel the wool twisting between your fingers. Hard to describe if you’ve never done it! I have two fat bobbins done now, and my attempts at plying have been disastrous, but hey, that’s what learning is about.

A great friend of mine is a wool fan – taught herself felting, moved to a caravan in County Galway, got a grant from the Irish government as she was pursuing a traditional craft, and then worked her way around the world teaching children how to make yurts. Last heard of working on a dairy farm in Norway, hand-milking the cows. What a gal. I think she still has a website, so I’ll try and dig out the address and post a link. I haven’t been in touch with her for a while, and I bet she won’t believe my wool exploits. She used to rave about it, the smell, the feel, the colours – I remember her caravan being full of jars of strange liquids, experiments with dyes and mordants, and now I know a bit more about it, I dread to think what was in those old jam jars.

So, what am I doing with it all? Well, I am knitting, but with shop-bought wool so far. I made my husband a scarf and he assures me that the mistakes ‘give it character’. I am also working with a skein of North Ronaldsay wool and attempting to make my Mum a beret for Christmas. Dad is getting a scarf too, and their 5 cats are getting a peg-loom rug made of raw wool from a Jacob’s sheep. I have found a million websites with patterns and advice, and I have discovered that I am surrounded on all fronts by expert knitters, all of whom are extremely generous with their time, knowledge, and needles.

One question remains – how on earth am I going to find time to go to work?


The wheel of frustration (sounds like an instrument of Medieval torture).



Rolags or kittens?


Hmm.


Jess has a new best friend.


Stitch n bitch.