Things my elders taught me: knitting

Today, it's the turn of another Before Our Time reader - The Mof- to share her memory of a skill learnt from our elders (parents, grandparents, teachers, friends...). If you would like to be added to the line-up, email on beforeourtime@bigpond.com - Megan and Alison.

My mother was a beautiful knitter and always seemed to have something on the needles. I expect she had to with a family of eight children- and in cold Scotland!

I was keen to learn this art and I distinctly remember learning to knit from my mother at the age of four. I had blue needles and burgungy wool. It was a challenge as I was left handed but I cottoned on quickly and learned to knit right handed.

My Mother had a little poem to teach children knitting which went:

"In the little bunny hole (needle into the front of the stitch)
Round the big tree (wool round back needle)
Out through the bunny hole (pull the loop through with point of needle)
And off goes she" (slip the stitch onto right hand needle)

I have used this myself when teaching children.

In primary school there was a syllabus of knitting which started at age seven. An itinerant sewing and knitting teacher came round our group of country schools. I think it was once a month as it took all year to complete each project. We were not allowed to take the project home until the end of the year - I can see why as I would have had it finished in a couple of weeks!

At the age of seven (my third year at school) we had to knit a pot holder. It was made of four 6 inch squares folded in diagonally to the centre and stitched, then padded with old towelling. The teacher then crocheted round the outside and made a loop to hang it up. (We were never taught how to crochet at school.)

At age eight we made a scarf with two colours alternating, in garter stitch. Mine was emerald green and scarlet. (I hope my colour sense has improved! )

At age nine it was time to learn purl (but of course with my early start I was well versed in that!) and we had to make mittens.

Age ten it was into socks, learning to turn a heel and graft the toe.

So by the age of eleven I was knitting cardigans and jumpers not only for myself but also for my little brothers.

The Mof, aged 10, wearing a cardigan she knitted herself.

It was dark brown in colour and had an all over pattern

of alternating plain and purl stitches making a raised texture.

I will be forever grateful that my mother was a knitter and had the patience and willingness to teach me the skill as, like her, I always have something on the needles even if it is just using up oddments for squares for charity blankets.

Arriving in outback Australia in the 1960s as a new bride was a culture-shock of a grand scale for a Scottish country lass, but The Mof took it all in her stride. She lives in a country town in Western Australia where she is involved with a variety of community groups. She loves to read blogs, but doesn't have one of her own (yet) and she hasn’t owned a dishwasher for nine years.

The Hotwater Bottle Fights Back as a Techno Gadget

I love a hotwater bottle. Nothing better on a cool winter’s night or when in pain and in need of a little attention. Wheat packs and electric blankets really don’t do it for me. Hotwater bottles are cuddly, you can knit clothes for them and they have history.

Here are some of the lovely clothes I have knitted for hotwater bottles:

How many wheat packs do you have with interchangeable outfits?

There’s nothing really exciting to say about the history of hotwater bottles except to say that we have been trying to figure out ways to keep ourselves warm at night since before we wore mammoth-skin cloaks. Records exist of beds being warmed with containers of hot coals, and later ceramic bottles of hot water, but it wasn’t until Slavoljub Eduard Penkala developed the rubber hotwater bottle did it really hit its straps as a leave.in.all.night snuggle-fest.

But history has not been kind to the hotwater bottle. Reports of burns due to improper use have diminished its glory in favour of electric blankets or wheat packs. So I was excited to read a new and thoroughly modern use for this fabulous item. The hotwater bottle has hit the techno big time as

... a laptop stand for your lap

Yes, Lifehacker Australia recently reported a blogger who uses a [tepid] tap-water-filled hotwater bottle as a comfy stable table between laptop, and lap. The hotwater bottle is ready to take on a new role in this millennium.

You can’t do that with an electric blanket.

I must confess that in the interests of thorough research I tried the hotwater bottle laptop stand and found it to be ... a bit wobbly. But it was comfortable.

How about you – do you love your hot water bottle or are you a modern microwaveable wheat pack or electric blanket user? Do you have a modern use for your trusty hotwater bottle?

Washcloths, 1930s style: Prize Giveaway!

Back, long before our time if you wanted a washcloth (flannel, face-washer, dishcloth) you would knit one, or have one knitted for you. School children knitted face-washers for the war effort, along with socks and scarves; all, I imagine in army green or navy blue cotton or linen.

Earlier this year I sent my children to a beginners knitting class in the city. I had tried to teach them to knit but I knew this would end in arguments so I decided to outsource to a professional – a lovely 19 year old who didn’t know what she was in for.

After the class we were discussing the best sorts of ‘first projects’ that beginner knitters should tackle. Traditionally beginners start with a scarf but they require considerable commitment to finish to the required length, usually more commitment than a beginner has. Beginners would be better advised, the instructor said, to knit a washcloth. These 20cm square projects are quick, easy and can be used immediately no matter the weather.

Today when it is easy to purchase cotton towelling or synthetic washcloths in bulk it seems a quaint out-of-date practice to knit them yourself, and yet people still do. Type “knitted washcloths” into Google and you will get thousands of links to patterns and photographs of completed projects.

I decided to buy some cotton yarn and give hand-knitted washcloths a go.

This is a simple pattern called, appropriately, Grandmother's Favourite. I found the pattern here and it is so simple to knit.

My husband thinks I’m kooky but I love these. I knit while watching TV. Each washcloth takes me two or three tv shows to knit and I find they are excellent for scrubbing my face in the shower.

They also make excellent gifts.

If you’re looking for a quick, satisfying project that won’t sit around unused, knit a washcloth. Cotton is inexpensive so these should cost about $1 - $3 each to make so is a great option for the thrifty among us.

Oh, and if you’re not interested in using one as a face-washer – apparently they are excellent for scrubbing glassware.

Anyone else out there knitting washcloths? Did you have knitted washcloths as a child? Do you think this is a skill that belongs before our time? Tell us your story in the comments section.

BREAST CANCER AWARENESS MONTH: WASHCLOTH GIVEAWAY!

We will draw a comment by random to receive their own hand-knitted Pink Ribbon 100% Indian cotton washcloth to try (see pic at left). The lucky prizewinner will be drawn out of a hat on Friday 24th October*. Good luck!

Please also take time to visit the official Breast Cancer website here to see how you can help.

* Winner's name will be posted to the sidebar

Knitting for the war effort

While the Australian diggers were fighting the Second World War on the battlefronts of Europe, the Mediterranean, North Africa, South-East Asia and the Pacific, those left at the home front were bolstering the forces’ efforts armed with knitting needles and skeins of wool.

Women (generally) and children knitted at home, at schools, on public transport, in groups and in public places. They produced socks, scarves, hats, jumpers, gloves and balaclavas by the thousands.

The tradition started during the first World War and by World War II, it was endemic. Able-bodied women were expected to work in paid-employment during the war, but for those who were house-bound due to age, illness or caring for young children or the elderly, knitting was one way they could contribute to the war effort.

Although some were accomplished knitters, not everyone was and standards for the finished products were strict. During World War I, the Red Cross produced an official sock measure. It stated that ‘to be of use to soldiers, socks must be free from knots and lumps’. Socks should also be ‘cast on loosely’, with a top that stretched ‘at least 15 inches.’

Nowadays, I’m not sure our defence forces in their high-tech, flame retardant uniforms have much need for handknitted items, however the concept of knitting to assist others who are facing personal battles is alive and well.

There are a number of organizations and websites that coordinate handknitted donations for charities. These items are given to individuals such as orphans, the homeless, cancer sufferers, or premature babies. Some charities distribute the knits overseas, others locally.

Knitting for the troops during the War allowed those at home to feel like they were contributing to the war effort in a practical and tangible way, and the items themselves were seen to deliver a message to their recipients of the support of the people at home.

Likewise, knitting for charities allows those who feel they want to make a contribution to do their bit.

A friend of mine is a tireless volunteer for wildlife rescue in Victoria. At all hours, day or night, she answers the call to go pick up injured or orphaned wildlife. Often they are baby possums abandoned by a sick or distressed mother or orphaned in the mother's pouch when she has been killed by a car or another animal, or birds that have been injured.

Talking to her about her work, I discovered that the animals are put into knitted bags of various sizes to keep them warm and safe. These bags need to be washed everyday, so rescuers go though a lot of them, and can't get enough to keep up with demand. They're not just used for possums and birds either - snakes, bats, lorrikeets, wombats and baby kangaroos are just some of the animals that have found themselves inside a handknitted bag.

I offered to knit some bags for her, then quickly evaluated my knitting-speed history and enlisted the help of my Mum and Megan who are knitting speed-demons.

I’m usually more of a quick-knit chunky yarn knitter, and I thought that to tackle something on smaller needles, with a finer yarn would have been too much of a challenge to my patience. So I started with thick wool and big (8mm) needles.

I chose to knit tiny bags for individual baby possums or little birds. They were relatively quick to knit and easy for a knitting-novice. As a bonus, I gained a real sense of satisfaction in knitting something I knew was going to be appreciated by someone else.

And I found that I really enjoyed the therapeutic aspect of the knitting itself. The repetitive nature of knitting creates a tranquil almost meditative state, and I imagined that the World War II knitters would have found knitting to be a relaxing escape in what was a time of great stress.

The end result would definitely not have met the Red Cross’s strict sock measure standards though.

And, in less than the time it took me to knit one baby possum bag, my mother produced all of these.

Here at Before Our Time, we’re taking the charge as wildlife footsoldiers (knitwear division). If you would like to help, the pouches need to be bags (with or without a drawstring top) of varying sizes from around 15cms w x 20cms h (for a single baby possum) up to 40cm x 40cms (for a joey or a baby wombat).

They can be knitted in any yarn, but preferably one which will wash well. And colour doesn't matter.

When you have completed one (or some!), you can email me for delivery details.

Just like those left at the home front during the Wars, it takes all types of knitters to fight the battles on behalf of others in need. The fast ones, the slow ones, the ones who have to repeatedly unravel.

What kind of knit-soldier are you?