I’m out of the country over the weekend, so I’m going to have to bow out early, but thanks to everyone who’s read, commented and joined in the blog week, and I’ve loved reading the other participants – it’s been great! Today’s blog, for 3KCBWDAY5, is a guest post from The Sheep. I would like to make it clear that I accept no liability for what follows and that any of the advice below is taken entirely at your own peril.
Finally! Hoxton lets me write a blog post of my own. I’d like to take this opportunity to share a little of my woolly wisdom.
Electric Sheep’s Top 10 Knitting Tips
- Gin. No, not to knit with (that would be ridiculous) but for pretty much everything else. It’s an excellent disinfectant, lubricant and pigeon propellant and is particularly useful in tactical warfare when used in the Molotov Chicken™. But you’ll find its main advantages at 3am on Christmas Eve when you need to rip out 267 lace stitches and realise you didn’t use a lifeline.
- Cake. I don’t think this one requires any further explanation.
- Wool. I mean proper wool. None of this knitting with banana leaves or metal wire or fibres gathered from the left flank of a miniature unicorn by the light of a new moon. We’re talking about the good stuff. Obviously from a sheep. (I’ve nothing against alpacas but have you ever tried having a conversation with one? And as for angora, who wants to walk around moulting like an Afghan Hound with alopecia?).
- Knitting Groups. I have heard that these are thought of as a good way to socially engage with like-minded people to discuss the craft. However my own observations lead me to conclude that they are in fact dens of iniquity, leading to drinking, illicit graffiti and political subterfuge. Which is obviously much better. Join one immediately.
- Moths. You must be ever-vigilant against these fibre-chomping denizens of Beelzebub. I’d recommend using my new multi-jet flame-thrower, but Hoxton confiscated the prototype. You set fire to a tree. All great discoveries require great sacrifice. Sigh. On discovering an infestation, put knits in the freezer or direct sunlight, thoroughly clean the area, and use pheromone traps to grab any remaining critters. Or you could follow Hoxton’s protocol by screaming and running around in circles. Ahem.
- LYS. No, I’m not talking about the German painter, nor the sailing handicapping system, but your Local Yarn Shop. These are wondrous places but need to be treated with extreme caution. It only takes a momentary lapse of willpower for these seemingly harmless purveyors of wool to become your knitting crack house. Before you know it you’ll have maxed out your credit card, re-mortgaged your house and crammed your freezer, loft, sofa cushions and mattresses with stash. All because you couldn’t step away from the Wollmeise.
- A Knitting Room. Obviously you need a space of your own in which to practice your craft. I’m something of a traditionalist, so I currently favour an underground bunker with plenty of storage, a relaxing colour scheme and a shark tank, but you may prefer an inactive volcano, disused warehouse or, if you’re Newt Gingrich, a Deathstar moonbase. Wish I’d thought of that one first.
- Beards. Whilst we can’t all aspire to levels of hirsute greatness, cultivating some decent facial hair is always a good idea. Unless you’re a girl of course, or follicly challenged, in which case it’s rather more tricky and you’re better off kitting yourself out with some moustachioed knitwear. Now you can celebrate your new role as a man-of-the-woods and go and hunt bears. Or sit down and have a nice cuppa. Up to you.
- Training. I realise you’re all at the top of your game (how else would you be here?) but it doesn’t do to get complacent. Always be open to improving your technique and learning new skills. I practice my ninja moves regularly, oil the trebuchet on a daily basis and I recently beat my highest score on Angry Birds. It’s never too late to learn.
- Other Knitters. These are a special kind of people, who will join you in a squee of delight as a new pattern is released; who are suitably impressed when you declare you have totally sussed out how to do the Kitchener stitch; who will understand why you are petting a yarn cake of Malabrigo Worsted and calling it ‘my precious’ and who will always demonstrate a remarkable tolerance for an obsession with cake, gin, beards and of course knitting. They’re quite something. So do make sure you hang out with as many of them as possible.