Woolly jumpers…

That’s me in the woolly jumper. Me, my mum, my younger sister Caroline in her duffel coat, and my little sister Della in her tartan pinafore dress staring down at her Wellingtons.

We are in the New Forest. We used to go to camping in the New Forest a lot in my Dad’s old Bedford Dormobile back in the sixties. Here we all are, not quite awake, early morning autumn and all wrapped up warm in hand- knitted sweaters and cardies to keep out the cold.

Back then everyone wore hand-knits and just about everyone knitted. My gran knitted, my mum knitted, even my uncle Len knitted. Some of the knitting was done through necessity - to clothe us relatively cheaply - some of the knitting was done for pleasure – my gran had a very bad knitting habit, and was seldom seen without a pair of number nines or sixes in her old arthritic hands.

Gran knitted all the time – jumpers, waistcoats, dresses, socks, baby clothes, dolls, woolly hats, balaclavas, blankets, rugs, even a pair of swimming trunks for my Uncle Bob. A sixpenny knitting pattern, a skein of wool, and some needles was all it took. A new sweater every Christmas, birthday, start of Autumn term, and a new balaclava every winter. How disappointed and lucky I was to have such lovely, lovingly made presents.

I found some old knitting patterns in the cupboard in the dining room last weekend. They were in a carrier bag on the top shelf gathering dust. One of them was definitely a pattern belonging to my Mum; she knitted my Aran jumper in the photograph from the pattern with the boy holding the boat, but I think that Helmets and Caps pattern belonged to my gran. I definitely had a helmet with a pom-pom on the top, and I dimly remember wearing her hand-knitted sleeveless pullovers and tight-buttoned cardigans when I was at infant school.

I don’t remember the horsey polo neck though thank God - I’d have drawn the line at a polo neck, jodhpurs, riding crop, and Brylcreem – quiff or no quiff.