We usually meet for a drink once a week, about six or so of us. Well, one day while we were sitting chatting, Rosey produced from her bag a pair of knitting needles and a ball of wool! We were gobsmacked!
She told us that she had secretly been receiving knitting lessons from her Gran. She had already made a scarf and a sock! We asked what she was about to start making and she pulled a crumpled pattern from her bag. On the front was a picture of a – how can I put it kindly? – a rather ‘mumsy’ cardigan.
Well, she started knitting, stopping every 10 seconds or so to take a slurp from her large glass of chardonnay. It was a sight for sore eyes! She was getting in such a muddle, but credit where credit’s due, she persevered and by the end of the evening she had produced a few inches of knitting.
Well, this went on week after week. She made a back, two bits of front, and some sleeves. And then it was complete. One Friday in November – the 8th it was, I’ll never forget the date, she strode into the pub walking like a model and wearing her latest creation. We didn’t know what to say.
One of us had to say something, so our friend Jack piped up ‘That really is your style Rosey!’ She was thrilled.
It was an interesting garment. One sleeve was a little longer than the other, but that didn’t matter. In fact the whole thing was a little lop-sided but we said nothing. There were bits of wool dangling here and there – maybe we were meant to be, but I suspect not!
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And that is what set of one of the funniest things that ever happened to Rosey!
We were sitting enjoying a drink when Rosey announced she was off to the ladies room. Well, she stood up and one of the strands of wool got trapped in the back of the chair! We didn’t notice at first, or we would have stopped her, but as she set off the strand remained trapped and the cardy started unravelling!
The pub was packed and Rosey had to walk around and between lots of tables and had to weave her way in and out of the people crowded around the bar. She did whatever she went to do, then set off on her journey back, but this time she took a different route weaving between different folk and different tables. And all the time the Cardigan was unravelling!
By the time she got back everyone in the pub was joined together by yards of pink wool! It was like a giant human macrame. When she sat down she had no idea what we were laughing at. She hadn’t noticed that her cardigan had shrunk to the size of a bolero! The sight of so many people twisting and turning to disentangle themselves is something I’ll never forget.
Fortunately Rosey saw the funny side of it then admitted that actually she didn’t think the cardigan was her style after all!
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