About nine years ago I knitted a cardigan for my son, using brightly coloured odds and ends. It took ages, because it was thin wool, but it was a great success. when he grew out of it, I couldn’t bear to leave it in a drawer until he moths got it, so I gave it away to a younger child. Some time later, I heard she’d grown out of it and passed it on to her younger brother.
And now I hear that little Sam’s inherited it – the sixth child to enjoy my knitting. Obviously all the mothers have taken very great care of it, or it would never have lasted so long.
And after Sam, maybe I’ll put it away and wait for a grandchild. Maybe.
I’d really hate the moths to get it.
