Oh, my poor mother. She and dad have been to stay for a few days, and she said she'd love to come along to this week's KTog. I'm not quite sure what she was expecting. On reflection, I think something along the lines of half-a-dozen quiet, demure, elderly ladies knitting subtle fairisles of fiendish complexity. (Quite where she saw me fitting in to this, I hate to think).
She ran away after the first half dozen arrived (about the time we dissolved into fits of laughter over the rather choice vintage pattern Liz brought along for me to add to my knitting cheese collection...I'll have to scan this masterpiece in for you all to see). Later on she said to me "I don't like to say this, dear, but the group is very loud and people were looking at you in horror."
Then, this morning, I was introduced to a lady of 90+ who lives in sheltered accommodation in my village. She is a very skilled knitter (still producing wedding ring shawls) and attends a weekly knitting circle in her accommodation. I ventured that it might be quieter than the one I attend. "Oh my dear, no, you should hear us when the gossip gets going!"
It will be most interesting to see what the new landlord and landlady of The Cambridge Blue make of us on Tuesday! Watch this space...
5 comments:
Well, if they do curl up in horror, at least there's a variety of smoke-free venues available these days! But it would be a shame, nevertheless!
I just wish it wasn't such a drive so I could join in the fun!
Whoever came up with the clichè of the quiet, demure elderly knitters, I wonder?
Neither quiet nor demure applies to any of my knitting friends, and elderly only applies to a few. Whenever we get together I can always rely on animated conversation and plenty of laughter.
A quiet bunch we are not!
Oooerr! Maybe we should reserve the naughty table next time!
In France we have a saying which tell us it's better laughing than crying...
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