I’ve always kind of liked the traditional ‘nana’ crafts. Making jams and marmalades was fun even as a teenager. Knitting, although certainly not skilled at it. I find knitting straight up and down rather therapeutic, (and one can never have enough scarves in a mild temperate climate.) I have an ambition to make cakes for the CWA. I like getting up early. My mother plays music to loud. I’m prone to the odd nod off on the couch during a movie. And sensible shoes make sense, high heels don’t.
See. Me and being a nana, it would work.
Now one thing I had always dismissed as truly an old lady craft was crochet. Old ladies did that. Ones that couldn’t knit properly. Crochet was for cheap man made fibres crocheted together to make lap blankets. Dismissed. I also couldn’t do it. Some how I had missed that hands on lesson as a kid. My older family members could all do it, but not nana girl here.
Something happened though. Somehow my nana rader was switched on and I knew there was another craft that needed to be looked at. My crochet light had been ignited. I wanted to play.
One lesson with my mum. Her saying, I taught myself as an 8 year old helpfully floated around my head.
A kids how- to book from the library was borrowed.
I was off. How much fun is a little hooked stick and a ball of wool!
Now I am still practising, and my efforts still look like that of a child’s, but jeez its fun. The possibilities are endless.
Little crocheted purses filled with chocolate for Christmas gifts (bottom picture), an alternative to ribbon (top picture) dressed gingerbread men…
Next, I’m thinking crocheted tissue box holders, underpants, and toilet seat covers.
Now how good will that be.