Thursday, 24 June 2010

Happy thoughts!

I'm pretty lucky to have an awesome job. After all, I do work in a knitting shop. And so it brought tears to my eyes last weekend when we opened the doors of our new, bigger, prettier (I know, to those of you who knew the old Loop, it doesn't seem possible) shop that there were 130+ knitters (and a couple of brave significant others) queued up waiting for the big unveiling. Incredible!

Here's just a few of the lovely things people have had to say about our shop:

Not too bad as workplaces go, eh!?

Tuesday, 1 June 2010

Beginnings and Ends.

Cheerful shades of Malabrigo Worsted.

My friend Rosemary and I started this blanket together a couple of weeks ago for a friend who became seriously ill while working Zambia. She was camping, and a terrible accident occurred that resulted in her being covered in burns. She was sent to South Africa, where she was joined by her mother, sister and uncle.

Rosemary and I, who have known this friend since we were children, were so upset by this news, and wanted to do something, anything, to help. There wasn't much that we could do from so far away, Rose being in Virginia, and me being in London, but Rose had the perfect idea that we could knit her something. Of course! If anything, the knitting we would do would be a comfort to us, who felt so helpless at this worrying time.

The pattern starting to grow.

We exchanged countless emails, deciding on the pattern, the yarn, the logistics. We started the blanket and as updates came in on our friend's progress, the blanket grew. We so looked forward to the day when we could send it off to her, hoping it would cheer her hospital room and keep her warm and comforted in the South African winter.

Yesterday, we got the devastating news that our dear childhood friend didn't make it. She lasted 58 days from the day of her accident - it never occurred to us she wouldn't continue to progress. Rose emailed to tell me the news - and also, what would we do with the blanket??


I looked at the pile of knitting last night. I'd completed about half of my portion. Looking at it, once full of so much hope and so much potential... I wondered if I would be able face knitting the rest.

We've decided to keep knitting. Now her family could use some comfort and some tangible affirmation that she touched lives. And actually, once I forced myself to pick up the knitting again, working each stitch comforted me too. Although knitting this blanket is a constant reminder of what we've lost, something about the soft yarn in my hands, the cheerful colours that remind us of our friend and the rhythm of each stitch are soothing. I don't know what I would've done without it.