They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I can share that it’s not true. For this old dog can now crochet.
It started all with Covid. Like several Jews I know, I started making my own challah — well, what else was there to do? — and after a few false starts and brick-like efforts, my hard work paid off and I now enjoy the weekly kneading and plaiting. It also saves me quite a bit as the price of challahs is rising as fast as my yeasted dough.
Bread challenge sorted, I wanted to tackle something else. So last year I joined a beginners’ knitting class. The four-week course covered everything from casting on to casting off and the complicated bit in between.
Lessons took place in a marvellous knitting shop in Bushey. Enter the shop and it is like stepping back into the 1950s.
The shelves are stocked with all manner of coloured yarns, patterns and needles, plus other accessories needed to knit anything you could possibly want.
Having vaguely remembered how to knit from my childhood, I managed relatively well and my first attempt at a knitted teddy for my grandson was a success. Well, I thought so.
My daughter refused to give it to him as she said it reminded her of something out of The Blair Witch Project so I tried again and eventually my stuffed toys looked more cute and less like something from a horror movie.
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Horror show: Joy with her teddy (Photo: David Landau)
This year, knowing the importance of keeping my synapses firing as much as possible, I signed up for a crochet course at the same shop. After all, crochet is very fashionable this summer, with shops full of holey bags and dresses that your grandmother might have made. And it had always been a mystery to me.
My grandmother was an expert in the craft, making dresses, handbags and all manner of items which were immaculate and a joy to behold.
How did she manage to concoct such marvels with just a small hooked needle and a ball of wool?
If you can knit, you can crochet, right? Actually, no. The skills needed are very different and at each class I sat stumped while other women around me seemed to manage their “yarn over”, their “double” “treble” and “half treble” stitches with ease.
I, meanwhile, was tying myself in knots just trying to hold the yarn correctly, and being left-handed did not make things any easier.
I kept reading about the importance of tension — well, I was certainly getting a lot of that, but it was not in the wool, it was in my shoulders and hands.
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Squares like Grandma used to make (Photo: Getty Images)
As for following a pattern, Egyptian hieroglyphics are surely easier to decipher.
After each class I would return home, forlorn and thinking I was a complete idiot for being unable to master something that looked so easy.
I resorted to watching YouTube videos and joined a Facebook group for beginners. Reading that so many other people had trouble getting started gave me hope, and after deciding that what I really needed to do was relax, I managed to complete a few rows of work.
They were a bit wonky, the stitches were all over the place, but it was a start and though I am very slow, I am making progress at last.
I’ve always admired those hand-crocheted kippot you sometimes see in shul. The advantage of crocheting a kippot for your loved ones is that you can choose the colour and designs.
But I am getting ahead of myself — all I can do is crochet in a straight line, a circular shape is way beyond my current skills.
I am still in the midst of the course and my ambition is to be able to crochet a selection of kippot for my husband. I’m thinking I should have one ready for Rosh Hashanah… in September 2024.
