There, I said it.
I’m sorry, dear blog, but I cheated on you. In my longer-than-intended-due-to-laziness hiatus, I erred. I strayed. I ventured away from knitting and ventured away from sewing. I tried my hand at crochet.
But worry not! i’m back! i’ve learnt my lesson. That is, the lesson not to stray. i’ve not learned how to crochet.
I had lost my knitting and sewing mojo a bit. A very small blanket has been discarded after only half a dozen rows, and i’ve got a tinkly bell ball for t’baybeh that needs to be sewn up together but i had no motivation to do it. So my magpie/distractalady mind was caught by an advert on television. It promised me crocheting majesty with hardly any effort at all. it promised me a gateway to a quick and easy life of woollen masterpieces. It promised me all this with a price of 99p for the first in an unknown number of bi-weekly part works.
Well, dear reader, i was hooked. (badoom tish. good pun, eh?)
I could barely contain my excitement once i got my eager hands on the package. The baby co-operated by going for a nap and i cracked open the wrapping. Two little balls of wall and a metal hook were contained therein, along with seemingly straightforward instructions.
Ha. A Ha. HA.
That, my friends, is hollow laughter.
I have tried. And tried. It took me approximately four hours to figure out how to loop the wool over the hook and make one loop in the chain. Yes, one loop. I can admit that after that it was fairly easy to replicate and could, within a good half hour or so, generate a chain of crochet. Which would be great, if all i wanted was to make a chain of wool. But my desire runs deeper than that. I really wanted to make things with crochet. So i tried to track back and do another row.
O. ho. O ho ho.
More hollow laughter. My friends, i promise you i tried. But my thumbs kept getting in the way. I kept losing tension, picking up the wrong bits of wool, losing loops and picking up random stitches along the way. I somehow managed to create a very tight circle which could have been described as a tiny, tiny woollen crochet fruit bowl for tiny tiny fruit for a tiny tiny person. It wasn’t good.
Acknowledging my weaknesses and understanding that there is only so much swearing that should be generated from a handicraft, I have admitted defeat and given up.
These hands were made for knitting and sewing machines. not for that hinderstick wool loopery for witches.
So i’m back. i promise not to cheat* with crochet again.
*until i become blinded with madness and take up the hook and wool again.