I don’t know about you, but I expect someone else’s cardigan has occasionally caught your eye. Maybe it’s just me. Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s just me who would actually stalk a cardigan around her daughter’s gym class. My cardigan-wearing is admittedly somewhat obsessive. I mean, I know sweaters exist but let’s not get into that right now.
I first saw the cardigan in question a couple of weeks ago. I was obviously too tired from running around after my 18mth old daughter to try to study it in much detail and just desponded about never knowing its knitterly secrets. But when it turned up again this week, I couldn’t resist. It had been haunting me. I couldn’t pick the wearer out in an identity parade, but I swear I could pull that that cardigan out of a rummage bin with my eyes shut.
However, being British I didn’t do the obvious thing and confess my professional interest to the cardigan owner for fear of being thought a total weirdo. It was a very cool cardigan and I therefore made rash assumptions about the owner and her likely attitude to (whisper it) hand knitting. I can assure you this was most definitely not a hand knit.
I couldn’t even just pretend to be on the phone and take sneaky photos since such clandestine activities would get me barred from a turning up to any future class full of
cardigans children. I couldn’t risk waiting until she was out on the street either since I knew my little girl would know I was rushing and would delay our departure by every means known to a toddler.
Instead of being a grown-up, I took every chance I could to get my little girl into the line for each activity right behind the cardigan-owner’s son. And then I stared at her merino-clad back. Maybe everyone else thought I just wasn’t concentrating much and was staring into the middle distance. Well, that’s what I was hoping. But I think I’ve got that stitch pattern burned into my brain now. And my daughter had a good time chasing around the gym more than is usual, which is the main thing. Perhaps.