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Monday, 14 May 2007

The Frugal Crafter

By Ronni Prior of Rants By Ronni

My dad was in the R.A.F. during WWII. Mother, keeping the home fires burning in Coventry, England, did a lot of knitting. She also frequently evacuated her home in favour of an Air Raid Shelter.

From what she told me, when the siren sounded, everyone would scramble for the nearest shelter, and the chances of meeting the same people over and over again were pretty slim. As knitting was something that could be done in the dim light of the shelter, she always had a project with her. Usually, she was knitting for my dad who, in Burma, was obviously in dire need of woolen socks.

One night, Mom was having trouble turning the heel on the black sock she was knitting. After she unpicked it a few times, the woman next to her showed her an easier way to do it. The new way lacked the bias line that you see in the side of a sock, but was much easier. Mom thanked her, the "all clear" sounded, and they went their separate ways.

Once back home, Mom could not duplicate the heel on the other sock. She tried. And tried. Eventually, she put it away and started over. Years later, going through an old work box, she found the sock-and-a-half and told me the story. I shook my teen-aged head at the eccentricity of the Old Folk and promptly forgot about it.

Shopping on a sunny Saturday at our local knitting store, I heard a shriek from two aisles over. I dropped about twelve pounds of macrame cord and ran to see what had happened. My mom was in the throes of ecstasy!

"Here it is!" she said, "The pattern! The pattern for Dad's sock!"

She bought the book, took it home, finished the sock, and the pair was under the Christmas tree that year.

Dad cried.

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


That is the best story! I don't knit, but if I had been in that situation, I'd have thrown that sock away or unravelled it. Good thing she didn't.

I love real life stories that end like a fairy tale. The stitching was perfect!

Thanks for your comments.

My mother was allergic to throwing things away.

Great story, ronni, but then all of your stories are great!

Thank you, Jo Ann, and everyone else who has taken the time to read this.

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