Anybody that's ever gone through a serious down-size (and I mean serious, not just clearing out a few things) will understand about the hard decisions you have to make... what stays, what goes. You have to be tough and ruthless, there's no room for emotional attachments. Sometimes there are things that you'd rather not live without yet they have to go because you realise that it's just not possible to keep them. You also know that at some point down the line, you'll remember these things and think of them fondly and quite possibly miss them.
During the night something woke me up and I started to think about one of my old hand-knits. The more I thought about it, it's warmth and texture, the more I started to miss it.
This photo seriously belongs in the Hall of Shame, yet it's the only one I could find of me wearing the hand-knit that I've been getting all nostalgic over. Yes, I was drunk and yes, that's me smoking but I hope you can see past that and look at the pink hand-knit! (You can blame Tom for this awful photo 'cos he took it ;)
It's knitted from a yarn that's identical to Colinette Point 5. It could well be Colinette, as it cost me a small fortune when I bought it over 15 years ago from the craft market in Covent Garden - £50 for a kilo if my memory serves me.
The yarn was knitted and worn, then frogged and reknitted in various forms... until it found itself as a zipped up cardigan with a chunky collar and a jersey lining. Like this, it served as a winter coat and I loved it. Of course because it was frogged and reknitted several times the amount of yarn shrank with each knit, and so this pink cardy was on the fitted side, which was good then, but when it came to crunch time it wasn't so comfy anymore.
This cardy come jacket went off to the charity shop that my step-mum volunteers in. When we parted ways it was falling apart - it needed re-lining, the sleeve seams were unravelling and after many years of good wear the single ply thick-thin was more than a little bobbly through pilling. Still, I can't help but wonder whether it found a new home of whether it still sits in storage or was sent off for rags.
As I lay awake last night I started to regret saying goodbye to the pink cardy and then I had to nudge myself - regrets are pointless, they only serve to torment us and stop us fom moving on. So I contented myself with the enjoyment I have had from it and wished it well so I could go back to sleep.
There aren't many hand-knits that I've held onto over the years, yet funnily enough the ones that I have are the ones that have been frogged and reknitted over and over again. I still have my faithful black alpaca jumper, which has been around much longer than the pink cardy and even survived felting in one of it's previous forms!