It runs in the family...

I do worry about my Ma sometimes. She's been known to speculate on where on earth my knitting addiction comes from. Happily her sister, my lovely Auntie Joyce (who has left her Barbara Walker books to me in her will!) has come up with some photographic evidence. The place: Worthing beach. The date: 1950. The subjects: are, (l to r) my Ma, my Nan, Auntie Joyce and my great aunt, Auntie May. And what is my 21-year old mother up to on this fine, sunny day? Looks eerily like knitting to me! And which member of the family loved yarn so much that they nicknamed her Moth? You guessed it. (And that's why I turn up on Yahoo groups as Mothsdaughter). I think what really upsets Ma is that both she and Nanny tried to teach me to knit but I was having none of it. Whenever I made a mistake I told Mum it was her fault (stubborness seems to be a family trait!). But I think seeing nanny knitting almost non-stop whenever she visited, and seeing Mum head straight to the nearest yarn shop whenever we went on holiday (be it to a nearby beach or to France) must have had a subliminal effect. Ma rarely knits these days (too much pain) but she still loves mending clothes (her darns are a work of art). Auntie Joy, though, is busily crocheting a blanket using oddments of about 40 different yarns. So there you have it: I'm descended from total knitters on Ma's side of the family and a bunch of weavers, spinners and dyers on Dad's (see a fibre-filled fortnight, part 1). And still Ma wonders why I knit...