Christmas Wouldn’t be Christmas Without a Bit of Drama
I am turning into a pincushion. My life is unravelling—I knit, and I unravel—I unravel and then I knit. When I was in my twenties and thirties, knitting was an integral part of my being. I always had at least one project on the go and when I moved from Germany to Ireland, with a three-month-old baby strapped to my side, one of the things I felt was indispensable, was my box of knitting needles. I still have that box and the needles. Throughout my life I became good at knitting things up and then taking them apart again. If I made a mistake, I was never afraid of ripping back a jumper, even if I had to rip it back to the very start. And then I would start again. It was a good life lesson, like building sandcastles on the beach and then letting the sea or the children destroy them. You just have to get up and do it all over again. When the children were younger and I was married, we used to watch a lot of movies and series’...