Ben’s jumper is finished, and I’m sure it’s the softest thing I’ve ever knitted. What with all the alpaca spun into the wool, and the thick lofty yarn, and the depth of the cables and ribbing down the front, it is the kind of squishy, silky, snuggly pullover everyone ought to have. I think I need to add five more to my list of things to make.
Beyond his admiration for the cleverness of cabling, Ben has never shown much interest in knitting. I taught him to make a wobbly and very holy scarf for his favourite teddy when he was little, just as I have all the others, but that was his first and last attempt. Like me, he loves to make things; unlike me he does not like to make them out of wool. But it’s astonishing how the fact that a jumper is for you makes the process so much more interesting. I can’t think how many items I must have blocked over his lifetime, and yet when he came in from Mother’s on Saturday and saw his jumper drying on an old towel he really wanted to know about the process, and what it does to the stitches, and why it matters so.
Everybody else, on entering the dining room, made the same announcement: it’s huge! Well, so is he – in height at least. It fits. But he’s a very gentle giant. He gives good gangly hugs, bending from the knee to make up for the fact that he’s at least eight inches taller than me. He’ll happily spend a day helping his granny pick and wrap her apples, or carry chairs from the top of their house down four flights to the kitchen. A day spent helping Father file or type is a day well spent, in his eyes. I find it hard, sometimes, to equate this tall young man with the solemn chubby baby in the photos, until I remember that even as a toddler he was generous with his chocolate.
It’s been such a pleasure, knitting for my biggest child. He hasn’t wanted anything more than hats for several years but now, at eighteen, he has come to his senses once more. What could be nicer than a mum-made jumper to keep you warm while you study? Pardon, Ben? Spending the night with your granny and grandad? Walks in the woods with your father and Ada? Teaching the little ones to build the best dens? Sitting round a campfire with your pals? Oh, alright then. But you can wear your new jumper while you do all of those things.— October 25, 1931